Saith
by Fitful
Summary: Summary: Harry has had dreams since he could remember. Oh not of Voldemort but of Vampires. Two in particular. What happens when he finds out they're not just dreams? Creature/VampireHarry. OC WARNING. Slash. D/s. AU SORRY THIS STOY IS ON HOLD. SORRY!
1. Chapter 1

**WOW. Thanks so much to my Beta Oirarana who read the story and has begun the mighty task of Editing, suggesting ideas, fixing my rather stupid mistakes and all around being wonderful. This first chapter is now BETA'd. **

**Disclaimer: **_**I Own nothing of the Harry Potter world all that belongs to JK Rowling, nor do i own anything you might possibly recognise of Mercedes Lackey. Also this fic might at first bring to mind Lady Treason's Heir of Corvus books but i promise any resemblance will change once the story gets started. I mean no infringement, plagiarism, or any stealing of any sort and if anyone has a problem please let me know. I do on the other hand own Hylaarr Kiinn and Osset're Li'essha Kiinn. They are my original characters and i love them to pieces so back off. No touchie. Also Seren's mine, a lot of vampire's and werewolves and who knows what else. Although Seren's a bitch. You can have her if you want. **_

**Warning: **_**Yeah so Slash. Big one. If you don't like that Fuck off. Also i have no problems with touching on the darker aspects of my characters, i will be writing erotic scenes, who knows what will go into them. I'll give you a bit of warning before anything untoward happens. Abuse: Harry will be abused probably only in the beginning though. Might add rape but most likely not. OC warnings I'll try not to make them Hateable. And I assure you you will love my Vampire Kings. Though they're not called kings... Oh and I hate Dumbledore, not to fond of Sirius, though he might just pull though in this fic, Ron's annoying Hermione's bossy. I hate James and Lily Potter though i don't yet know how i'll portray them here. Oh and Remus is a sweet heart but a coward. I love Severus, Draco, Lucius, and Voldie's funny when he's not being an idiot villain. Kinda like Percy a bit. Peter here might be a bit different then your used to. Right now that i've offended everyone lets get on with it. Oh and Wizard bashing. **_

**Summary: Harry has had dreams since he could remember. Oh not of Voldie and his merry band of death munchers but of Vampires. Two in particular. What happens when he finds out they're not just dreams? Creature/VampireHarry. OC WARNING. Slash. Dumbledore bashing. Lots of Snape. SS/HP Probably SlytherinHarry **

**So Chapter 1 is the only here yet. If you like it I'll write more. Not much Harry in it yet. Sorry.**

**Author's Note: **_**Yeah so this is my first posted fic. I'm not a review whore. I refuse to beg. But i will let you know that i have a hard time finishing things. If you like this story and want me to continue please speak up. Don't speak up if you don't like it. And if you've any ideas you think will be good here let me know. **_

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Chapter One

October 31st.

Night

Let the masses rejoice, for this night the blood spilt will hail the reign of a new dark lord.

How utterly perfect.

Glowing green eyes watched the trembling form of the one who crouched at His feet. This one had his back to his lord, his quick darting eyes surveying those gathered below. He was not noticeable in his trembling; you had to watch for it. Even so every natural predator would be quick to notice this one, even in spite of his Gryffindor status.

The side of His mouth pulled up in an elegant sneer which transformed into a toothy smile as nearly a third of His servants snapped to attention. That was good. He nearly purred in pleasure at their obedience, their fear, but Dark Lords do not purr. His shoulders shifted from the comfortable slouch He had them in to assume a more regal posture. This move gained even more attention, indeed. Several eyes snapped His way to watch Him. His smile widened and many made aborted motions that signaled their fear.

How utterly divine.

He indulged himself in meeting a few eyes but eventually the one at his feet compelled His gaze again. There was nothing special about this one, his fear wasn't even satisfying, this one feared everything.

No . . . this one was pleasing in a unique way. This one's fear would bring about the end of the last threat against The Dark Lord Voldemort.

The green eyes darkened and He idly watched as the trembling of this one increased. That such a thing could exist very nearly baffled Him even as it enraged Him. He was the most powerful and feared dark lord since Grindelwald. He was only opposed seriously by His oh so dear ex-professor, a declining old fool who was even now scrambling to keep up with Him.

He was even immortal. This whispered in His mind and echoed a bit. A Secret. Shh.

That anyone dare ever to think of defiance, let alone defeating Him was utterly . . . hilarious, that is was a child no less. Yes . . . that was hilarious. Abruptly He was laughing, a high pitched hiccuping thing that danced around the room. It was not a happy sound which was funnier still and He continued laughing.

Just as abruptly He stopped. He now had the attention of every single one of His slaves. They all had their eyes trained on Him. Each one could not hide the new fear there. The one at His feet was nearly hyperventilating.

How utterly fabulous.

He rose. Standing at his full height upon the dais that held His throne, He watched them all; His teeth showing in a mockery of a smile.

Rejoice little slaves. Soon. Soon I will rule the world. And blood will be spilt before Me like a carpet for My feet to tread.

"Disapparate." And with that He disappeared. No worries. They would follow.

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October 31st

Night

The vampire Seer Seren Eliath Kiinn sat at her Lord's right hand. To her left Lord Hylaarr Silvereyes Moonrun Somus Kiinn, Lord of the Crescent, Lord of the Bloodlands, and her brother. To his left his mate, Osset're Li'essha Kiinn. Together the three made up the Head of the council and ultimate ruling body of the Crescent clan. This night they presided over council and court as they did once a week. That this night fell on Halloween made no difference.

"Sire, The Lesser Council begs your pardon for the next petition set before you."

Kerith Somus Nee stood before the three. With his left wrist clasped in his right hand behind him he stood at attention, his eyes meeting his lord as proper a Dominant, but his unbound hair was swept aside on the left to bare his neck, showing submission to the more Dominant Lord.

Seren marveled at the words unspoken. His stance was relaxed as was proper, Kerith and Hylaarr were old friends, both Dominants and therefore equal. There were exceptions of course. Hylaarr was his sire, and so family as well as friend, but unspoken was that inequality as Kerith was considered Younger and unofficially a Son.

Hylaarr was also Borne as Kerith was Embraced, another inequality. Kerith addressed both in his stance, his shoulders bowed forward in an imitation of a bow, marking him as Embraced by Hylaarr, and his left wrist encircled by his right hand mimicked the ritual of Embrace. Such strict formality was a nod to the Ancient Ways they followed and was also the reason Kerith was on the council, and the Speaker for the Lesser Council, as his grasp of the etiquette was exquisite.

But the asking of forgiveness of one Dominant to another and before the fact were the subtle words spoken here. Not to mention while Kerith was relaxed it was forced and his breathing was nearly a meditative ritual is was so controlled. Each one of The Three saw these subtle signs and Seren wanted to sigh at what she knew without Knowing was to come

Seren smelled grief and sorrow in her brother's scent a moment before is was controlled. His mask never wavered though and she knew only those on either side of him sensed those brief moments he indulged in. Osset're on the other hand stiffened visibly as he took in those words. Grief and rage rose off him in smell but also magic.

He was, of course, forgiven for such indulgence. He was Elven first and foremost even after nearly 62 years as a vampire and as an Adept mage he was allowed the emotions which strengthened and drove his magic. Not the least to mention he was Submissive.

"The Three listen and see you Somus Nee," Hylaarr's voice was soft, control so absolute it was impossible to detect, but his eyes warned of retribution should he go too far.

Kerith neither moved nor hesitated but continued in a calm overly controlled voice.

" The Lesser Council has respectfully hesitated to push our Lord and Consort for the proscribed year and another out of compassion, but as the events of last week have shown, neither are as protected as the clan has assumed." Kerith huffed a bit at that confession and very nearly winced but stopped himself. " Our love for our Lord and Consort demands nothing but loyalty and our mind, body, and Will for their use as they call. And as our oaths echo upon memory those minds, bodies, and Will demand to be put forward; even unasked and refused if it is deemed their will be harm done to Clan or Lord and Consort should they not. "

Alas Seren could not let that go unanswered.

" A pretty speech, Childe, but very nearly a threat to those whom those oaths were spoken to." Kerith flushed a bit as his eyes met hers and dropped in submission and a silent confession. As well he should and perhaps a bit of groveling as well. He had very nearly accused his Lord and Consort of being unable to guide and protect the clan they pledged to, and not very subtly as well.

She would have said more but her Lord motioned for Kerith to continue and she was forced to bite her tongue.

Kerith dared to raise his eyes and meet his Lord's again but the lack of anger or rebuke gave him courage to continue.

"Our Lord and Consort were very nearly killed in the last attempt on their life. This event has spurred us to beg The Three to begin negotiations for an heir." Osset're sucked in a breath at that but Kerith refused to halt, lest he not have the courage to start again Seren thought.

" We do not ask that our Lord beget or adopt; only name an appropriate other as heir. The Lesser Council begs you to keep in mind that should either of you fall the Bloodlands will truly run with blood in an effort to hold onto them, and it would only be a matter of time before the pressure of other clans would cause our borders to fall. The Lesser Council mourns with you the loss of two years ago but begs you to put aside your grief and insure the foundation of Crescent is secure."

Kerith was trembling by the time he had finished and couldn't have stopped himself from dropping Hylaarr's eyes and stepping back a pace if it were ordered him. Hylaarr's scent hadn't changed but Osset're's had. The grief was nearly overwhelming and the magic rolled visibly now, sparkling bits of hot lighting like flashes in eddies of frigid cold swirled in the air around him. Bits of flame snarled along his skin but his voice was ice in contrast.

"The Consort wonders if the Lesser council's grief is in sympathy for their Lord and Consort or for the lack of the very Heir they now petition for." Osset're's eyes nearly glowed; the violet now nearly red in rage. He was the perfect blend of fire and ice, and both elements his magic invoked were enraged by the memory of the child he had lost just two years before. A unique child, a naturally conceived child of two life-bonded male vampires. Mage magic and Vampire Will working together, and lost not a day later, killed from the magical womb by unknown dark magic.

Kerith sucked in a breath at the Consort's words. Not only the accusation a blow but for Osset're to speak so coldly to a long valued friend cut as well.

"The Lord is also curious as to whom the Lesser Council would recommend as heir, Childe." Kerith visibly winced at the address. "You perhaps?" Kerith's head snapped up so fast at those word's Seren wondered if he'd need excused for healing for a broken neck.

"Nay, Lord-" Kerith was cut off by an abrupt motion. Hylaarr was visibly angry now. His movements were stiff, his posture unnaturally straight.

"The Three dismiss Kerith Somus Nee and will hear the remainder of this night's agenda." The Lord had spoken. Kerith moved back, nearly in shock. The Childe would most likely be sent off on a year assignment by morning in a country far away. Seren didn't pity him one bit. The Lesser Council had expected this and their second Speaker was already coming forward. A Submissive and female at that. Seren meant to watch that interesting show but her attention drifted and when she blinked to focus she opened her eyes to another scene.

It was a mortal house, in a mortal village but the lines of magic were visibly in a shield around the house. They danced and the rain hissed as it hit and fell through the magic. The magic was strong and blurred the image of the house, as if trying to coax her to believe that it wasn't important.

Seren was unconcerned by this, the Knowing would inform her after the vision of what she could not catch or didn't understand. She focused and asked for more and her attention was directed to the door. Mortals in black robes and white masks milled around the front of the house. Only one was unmasked and he stood in the center of it them, arrogant and smiling, hate in his eyes. Dark magic clung to him and he stunk with it. Seren's eyebrow rose; they had sticks that glowed to her Sight. Wizards. Seren felt a stirring of concern. She hadn't seen a wizard for two years . . .

A little mortal man, trembling in fear, whispered something in the ear of the unmasked one. If she had actually been there she would have smelled the spike of anticipation.

Then the unmasked one looked at the house, watched it for a moment and then walked in blasting the door away with his stick. She saw the lines of shield magic melt away and the mortals attention snapped to the house that lost its protection.

Seren started to feel a bit sick. She recognized that house . . .

Magic began to build up. She felt its release again and again, a few flashes of light from the window confirmed them. Spells. Wizards and Sticks and Spells. She wanted to sneer in disgust but the vision held her and she trembled in its anticipation. A green light flared shining out all the windows and then all was silent on the first floor. The mortals in black robes just watched.

All was nearly quiet, minutes passed. This was unacceptable. The vision would not release her or let her interfere or look to see what was happening. Her plans were about to unravel . . . Another green light lit up a window on the second floor.

Seren struggled against the vision but the magic held her. She knew it would. She'd been Seeing for nearly 200 years now. Again a flash of green, and a pain filled moan. It was hers. Not this. She never meant to betray . . . but then a high pitched whine, the magic building up and exploding, she didn't Know, she couldn't See but if the child were dead . . .

The mortals were in a panic. They milled about like ants then started to scatter, disappearing with noisy pops. Only the little trembling one stayed. All was quiet. Then a pop and a wild haired mortal, grief magic waving about him, ran into the house. Despite how she tried she could not See inside. Again time passed and finally the mortal returned, a small child held close and gently to him. Seren trembled in relief. He lived. Another mighty crack split the night and the mortal jumped and had his stick out when a small giant appeared. Seren frowned as the mortal dropped the stick.

"Dumbledore sent me, 'ow are James an' Lily?" Rumbled the small giant his face twisted up with worry.

"Dead." The mortal voice was dead as well. The small giant's eyes welled up with tears that ran down his face and fell like rain. "An Lil' 'arry?"

The mortal looked at the child in his arm. He seemed to wake up a bit from the grief, and concern flitted across his face. "He's here. But I don't know, something's wrong."

Seren frowned and Looked at the child. No. No. No. Not yet she nearly hissed. She focused and pushed with her magic, and the vision let her. The child glowed a bit to her Sight then all was well. He looked fine. There was a bit of dark magic about that scar though . . .

"Wots wrong wi' im?" Sniffed the small giant.

"He was hurt, the scar won't heal though." The mortal held the boy tighter. "But there was something else."

Seren looked sharply at the mortal, then looked at him. He was mortal, and there his magic marked him a wizard. Seren sneered in disgust. But wait there. Seren tensed. There it was, she could see a small tendril of Seer magic in him. That made sense. But . . . No! She didn't want this one near the child!

She looked around. The little mortal crouched trembling by the house. He was frozen. He knew if they saw him he'd be dead. Seren turned her attention to him and poked at his mind. Interesting. Well more tampering couldn't make him worse.

She carefully placed a few ideas in his mind and then a bit of her Will to insure he would do what she wanted, then she released him. He was off like a hare, nearly surprising her at how fast he could run. But her tampering made sure he caught the attention of the mortal with his fumbling of it.

The small giant was sobbing so noisily he didn't notice. The mortal froze when he saw him and raised his stick but remembered the child and lowered it. Seren nearly growled and pushed her way into the mortal's grief stricken mind.

"Revenge." She whispered to him. She snatched at the information that floated in his mind and found his name. "Sirius, you want Revenge." The mortal hesitated. Torn between duty and desire. She pushed a bit more. "The little rat betrayed you. Go after him. Kill him! You want him dead." It was easily done. He did want revenge. He broke beneath her Will. Quickly he pushed the child to the small giant. Yes that was fine.

"Hagrid, take Harry." The mortal said urgently. He was trembling with the effort it took to defy her this little bit.

"Wot's goin' on?" The giant was uncertain and still sobbing.

"Just take him Hagrid. Use my bike. Take him to Dumbledore!" He forced the small giant to grab the child. Once the small giant had the child, the mortal could defy her no longer and he took off after the trembling betrayer.

Seren frowned. Not Dumbledore. That mortal caring for the child was more dangerous than this one. Oh well she'd fix that later. She felt the vision fading. Her Sight blurred and she blinked to meet her Lord's eyes.

Hylaarr was looking at her with concern. She felt a bit of guilt but squashed that down.

"My pardon, my Lord." She whispered feeling faint. The Knowing was rushing into her mind, filling it with everything she needed to know about what she had Seen. Her brain felt overly full.

"The Three are voting upon the first petition of the night. The Lesser Council would hear your words first, Seer." Hylaarr spoke calmly but was clearly distracted by his concern for her and his mate whom she could feel was near collapse. The first petition had ruined the Submissive's control and she was surprised he had lasted the entire council meeting.

Seren pulled herself together, pulled her mind back to her clan and her duties and her family. But the child she had stolen away, given to mortals, just two years ago weighed on her mind.

"The Seer cautions against the negotiations for an heir. Her sight remains clouded as to what such an action could entail but is clear if no action is taken. The immediate future holds no peril if an heir is not sought. I vote to dismiss this merciless petition until either the future in that regard becomes clear or a potential falls into our midst." Her eyes bore into the members of the Lesser Council. They could not hold her gaze for long Dominants and Submissives alike.

"The Consort seconds the vote." Osset're's voice was melting ice.

"The Lord dismissed the first petition of the night. This council session is over." Her Lord very nearly growled this and did let his fangs show. There would be no repeat of this farce of a council meeting. "You are all dismissed."

The Three watched as the Council filed out, each trembling under the hawk like gaze of their Lord. Once they were alone they could relax. Osset're fell forward, curling forward, and moaned in grief.

Hylaarr was up and caught him tumbling them both in a controlled fall and pulled him close. In a perfectly calculated motion he had the Consort's long white hair in a mostly likely painful grip and literally pulled the submissive's mouth to his, invading it with his tongue. Osset're struggled for a bit, no doubt wanting to spit and rage before feeding and comfort but lessons and need took over quickly and he was docile and swallowed the blood given, his mate's tongue cut on one of their teeth for feeding. They stayed that way trembling on the marble floor of the council chamber until both were certain they could maintain control. Then Hylaarr pulled back and maneuvered his mate into his lap, hand still gripping the long white hair, and whispered in elven into his consort's ear.

Seren watched this all tiredly still trying to get herself under control. She after all had no mate to take comfort in. Nor could she take one. Her lifebonded had died many, many years ago. And more importantly she had to leave before her brother regained his control and sought to comfort her. Should he do so in the state she was in she might confess everything . . .

Seren closed her eyes. She was a seer. Not just any but the Seer of Crescent, the Bloodlands, and the most powerful this side of the globe. And more she had taken those oaths long before her lord was even born. Abruptly she opened her eyes and stood. Hylaarr turned to watch her with concern. She shook her head. Let him deal with his submissive elven mage mate. She had things to do. At the top of her list steal into Dumbledore's mind and place the child with magicless mortals. That would keep things on track for now. All guilt and compassion could wait. She walked out of the council chamber and left those emotions behind waiting until she met her Lord's eyes again to surface.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

November 1st Dawn

The Dawn rose upon Privet Drive to gently kiss the child magiced to sleep in front of the door to number 4. The child frowned a bit in sleep but the magic held and he just sighed. Little did he know in a few hours time he would be awoken by the scream of Petunia Dursley just as his sleep was disturbed by the dreams of Lily Potter and her scream before she died.

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**OKay so yeah. Thats the first Chapter. I'm unsure as to weather Harry's a Dominant or Submissive. I love subharry but i'm afraid that won't work here. On the other hand the Harry in Heir of Corvus is so Independent i don't want anymore similarities to that story than i already have. Anyway got any idea? Let me know.**

**Fitful**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sing the praises of my Beta Oirarana!!!!!! This chapter is now fixed up and all the better for it. **

**Disclaimer/Warning/Summary? See Chapter 1. **

**So a big WARNING: There is child abuse in the following chapter. It actually shocked me at how violent it came out. Now i know everyone loves to pick on Harry but I'm not doing it just to torture him. There is a reason. It might not come to like until later. I'm thinking you'll get a hint when he hits 9 years but it won't actually come out until he's 13. The reason for abuse not the abuse itself. Anyway if you don't want to read it skip the last paragraph with the Dursleys. It's important but it's not necessary for you to read. **

**Pronunciation: Osset're. (O-set- ry) **

**Hylaarr. (Hi-lar) Although I do add those extra 'a' and 'r' when I say it so it kinda rolls a bit.**

**Saith. Now thats up to you. (If you rhyme with **_**wraith**_** thats fine.) or (Saith as in 'saith the lord') Both have connotations to the meaning of the word and what effect it will have on the character in the future. Can you guess?**

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Chapter Two

October 30th

Afternoon.

Two years later.

Wide green eyes took in the bags of sweets and cakes and candies that Petunia Dursley handed him. He hadn't even know there was so much candy in the store let alone anyone could buy that much. Shouldn't there be a law on how much sugar a person could buy? The dark headed boy snorted at himself for the thought as he took the heavy bags carefully. Of course if there were such a law Petunia Dursley would find a way around it for her own Diddy-kins.

"Watch those bags, Boy!" She snarled in a voice sharp, but soft lest the neighbors strain to hear. "You'll not drop a single toffee if you know what's good for you!"

The three year old child hunched his shoulders a bit and gripped the bags more firmly. "Yes, Aunt." He said softly and carefully but quickly took the bags into Number Four Privet Drive.

Most people who watched the small child help bring in the groceries would smile and soften at the sweet sight. He was a darling thing to look at and anyone in their right mind would compliment him on being such a good helper and promise him one of the sweets he so diligently carried into the kitchen.

A more cynical beast would allow that he was only being so helpful in order to get such a treat but wouldn't be able begrudge him that prize. Anyone of course but the Dursleys. Upon his arrival in the kitchen an overly large man with a rather ugly mustard colored mustache snapped to attention and watched him suspiciously.

"Boy!" He boomed, starting to turn red. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The boy in question had frozen at the first word and his shoulders hunched a forward a bit more, his eyes lowered respectfully. "Helping Aunt with the groceries, Uncle," he said softly just enough to be heard but not an intrusive nor aggressive reply. Indeed the way he said it offered itself to be ignored if you were so inclined.

"Are you indeed?" He mused a bit softer but no less aggressively. "I could have sworn you were skulking into the kitchen as fast as you could in order to snatch a sweet before your Aunt could put them away. Knew once she did that you'd be caught if you tried to nob one later, eh?"

The boy tensed a bit but held himself silent. The thought ran through his head that his Aunt had bought the things herself and therefore knew what she had purchased and even if didn't remember the receipt would have an account of it as a reminder. As well as opening a bag before someone else did was a sure way to get caught. He didn't even contemplate voicing that though. Even at the age of three he knew better.

The large man grew impatient with the boy's silence. He grew more red. "Well boy!"

The child studied the floor with intense concentration. "I was in a hurry to reach the kitchen, Uncle." His reply was a bit louder this time and he allowed himself to fidget in an almost guilty manner. He was forbidden lying but no one had ever said anything about acting like he had done something wrong.

The larger man visibly relaxed and smiled cruelly at the boy. " I thought as much you horrid boy." He was gloating as he took a step forward. " Always sneaking about, stealing and what not." He was now directly in front of the boy and just watched him. Then without warning he hit the child, an open palm to the side of the head. It wasn't a slap though and the child swayed but stayed silent. He knew from experience that his head would throb and he'd be dizzy for a few days. He kept his gaze on the floor.

"Well boy! Get those groceries on the table." The large man was calmer now and nearly said that in a jolly way as he turned to lumber into the hallway to see what was keeping his wife.

Once his uncle was gone he was quick to put the bags on the floor by the table then maneuver a chair out and climb onto it. Carefully leaning off he pulled up one bag and got it on the table. Then reaching down he pulled up the other one. A loud thudding noise sounded from the second floor and started down the stairs. The small boy hurried to push the second bag on the table and then started to climb down. The thudding noise hit the first floor and pounded into the kitchen just before he could touch the ground.

Within a moment the boy and been shoved aside and fell the last few feet to the floor, landing in an awkward sprawl. With a sigh he watched as a smaller version of his uncle reached for a bag and managed to get a hold of one. He'd been to hasty and hadn't pushed them both to the center of the table. His taller cousin was able to reach just enough to clamp his fat fist around the plastic and pull the bag closer. Within seconds of that the bag was open and another containing sweets was ripped open as well. Barely a minute had passed and the little fists were both gripping candy tightly and the pink gaping maw was stuffed full of dark brown chocolate.

It would have been cute Dudley Dursley weren't such a little monster.

The front door opened and swung shut again and the boy scrambled to get up off the floor, wincing as he pushed himself up with his wrist, discovering the result of the short fall.

"The nerve of that woman, Vernon, calling that..that _boy _a huge help. If she really knew how he is she'd be horrified!" Petunia was nearly shrieking in outrage by the last word and as loud as that was it was no match for her husband.

"She couldn't handle the boy for a week without calling the hospital or the authorities." His voice boomed in angry agreement. "That woman is nothing but a brainless nosy harridan, Pet." With that last word Vernon Dursley came puffing into to kitchen carrying another four bags of what looked like, candy, cakes, and other sweets.

He immediately stopped and put them on the floor just barely giving his wife room to maneuver into the kitchen with her hands gripping more bags though these looked to be normal groceries. She set them down and her eyes seemed pulled against their will to the little monster stuffing himself with chocolate. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the candy and tracked to the ripped bag then to the boy who had started to pulled the bags his uncle had left on the floor across the kitchen to the table as they were to heavy for him to lift.

"Boy!" Shrieked Petunia Dursley sounding like a train set to take off. "How dare you get into Dudley's sweets!"

The boy, who had looked up to meet her eyes at boy couldn't help his eyes widening in shock at the accusation before he quickly dropped them to the ground and straightened careful to bow his head and shoulders.

"And don't give me that look boy!" she shrieked like a whistle "You know very well Dudley couldn't reach that bag himself nor open it if he could!"

The boy, Dudley, paused in his eating long enough to swallow. "Harry did it." he said before stuffing more chocolate into his maw nearly adding the wrapper too.

She would have continued that tirade but Vernon had finally caught his breath and stalked over to boy, Harry. Faster than you would have though possible he had boy's wrists in hand and was dragging the child across the kitchen to the hall. Harry knew better than to struggle. Vernon Dursley was nearly red with anger but made an odd sort of humming noise despite that.

He yanked open a small door that was barely twice the height of the three year old and stuffed the docile child into the cramped little cupboard, his humming, even louder. The cupboard under the stairs was a tiny thing, perhaps big enough for a vacuum and some brooms but not much else. It was tall and narrow and deep and no adult would be able to fit themselves in such a tight space.

But Vernon Dursley did not mean to go inside. He merely reached in and grabbed two dangling thick metal pieces that had obviously been forced to assume the small ring shape they were in. The both had thick rope wrapped around them and Vernon pushed the three year old's wrists into the tight metal and secured them with an extra bit of rope that dangled for that purpose. Then with a yank on the rope the child's arms went up and he very nearly dangled off the floor.

With the child unable to move or struggle Vernon took his time, slapping the child a bit, enjoying it as the small boy would hit the wall. He eventually got bored with that and smashed a fist into the child face. The boy fell unconscious either from the blow or hitting his head against the wall of the cupboard as he swung.

Vernon grunted in satisfaction and huffed a bit. His eyes watched the boy as he swung waiting for a movement any sign that the boy was feigning his unconscious state. After a bit he was satisfied, and pulled away from the cupboard and shut the door. There was a nice padlock on it and he made sure that was secure before he left the boy alone. He trembled slightly as he walked away, and couldn't force himself to look back at the locked door. The lock should hold. They hadn't had to replace it for nearly a year.

* * *

July 30th

Evening

Harry woke to setting sun gently kissing his face. He moaned a bit and rolled over to look around what he saw made him grin, he was back. The room he was in was a large chamber like thing, you could fit the whole of number 4 inside it he often thought and was very close to being right too. The room was large, an off white golden marble made up the whole of it walls, floor and ceiling which stretched up 30 to 35 feet in some places. In it were couches and chairs surrounding a fireplace that could accommodate Vernon Dursley with room to spare.

Across from that was an overly large bed, metal poles spiraling up into a canopy with wisps of fabric clinging here and there. The bed was covered in piles of fabric all hues of gold, white, and red with a few shocking splashes of blue here and there. The corner between the bed and the fireplace was not really a corner but half the room with window stretching along the wall to the bed and two large golden twin doors along the wall by the fireplace. A table waited a few feet from those doors separating the siting area from the entrance.

Directly passed the fireplace on the other side were another set of doors, slightly smaller, that lead to a glorious bathroom Harry had only peeked in. There was another set of doors that led to different room.

Tall windows revealed that room to the main one, stretched out beneath them was a bench where Harry now sat. Plants, herbs, flowers and such stretched along beneath them on a table and shelves just after the bench. The last wall was dedicated to windows as well, but had yet another set of doors and both of which opened up into the outdoors.

Harry had never been able to go out those doors, indeed he had never been able to leave this large room but that was really no hardship. He sat up slowly grinning at the lack of pain. Oh he knew it was only temporary, this was just a dream after all but nothing had ever pleased him more than to find himself in this dream scape.

Now Harry was only three, and although he was very intelligent he didn't know how he had such dreams, and in a childlike way didn't care, for nothing could hurt him. It wasn't because he could make things happen or call up imagined monsters to protect him, it was because no one could see him, in fact no one could touch him either.

He had started having these dreams a little over a year ago though he wasn't really aware of how long he'd been having them. To him it seemed like forever. He did, however, recall being wary, watching unobtrusively and cringing when he thought he might be noticed. It took someone looking directly at him and not registering his presence that made him realize this was a dream. It wasn't real. There was no such place except when he slept. And he didn't visit every night, only those nights when he was hurt so bad he was tugged down into sleep almost unwillingly. But never unwilling to come here.

The large golden doors opened and he grinned, remembering another reason why he liked it here. Osset're Li'essha Kiinn stormed into the room in a swirl of fabric that whipped around him almost by themselves. Harry grinned and pulled up his hand to cover a delighted giggle as he watched the vampire stalk across the room. He loved it when Osset're did magic.

The vampire halted abruptly and turned back to face the door his entire posture visibly screaming his irritation. Harry knew that the magic vampire was angry but that was ok, Harry knew he couldn't be hurt here which was what made him relax the most, and he knew Osset're would never hurt anyone, he was a very nice vampire after all.

Harry watched as bits of flame snapped at the air around him. He smiled again. The vampire never did anything quietly. In fact even when silent he was very loud. Harry frowned, wishing he could be loud like that, not at the Dursley's though, that would be bad, but maybe someplace. He contemplated trying while here but it really wouldn't work, no one could see him here, not even Osset're and Osset're could do lots of magic. Harry sighed and watched the doors with Osset're, he knew who he was waiting for, and he was anxious to see him too.

A bit more controlled but no less aggressively Hylaarr Kiinn strode into the room then abruptly turned and closed the doors Osset're's magic had thrown open.

"How DARE you!" Osset're threw the words down like a challenge his arms waving with them. Harry frowned recognizing the actual anger in the tone. Osset're was often angry but this.. this was different.

Hylaarr Kiinn turned around to lock one black and one silver eye with angry violet ones. He held himself stiff and Harry backed away pulling himself more fulling onto the bench. Yeah this would be bad. He pulled his knees up to his chest and watched with wide eyes. Angry vampires could be violent.

"I dare much when it comes to the care of my mate." His tone was even but not mild by an means.

Abruptly the fireplace roared to life, flames stretching to the very edge of their reach and trying to go beyond.

"I was fine." Osset're said very coldly. Hylaarr merely raised an eyebrow and watched the trembling in Osset're's out flung hand. Osset're clenched that hand into a fist and hissed at him, his fangs flashing in rage. Harry shivered, did they have to fight? He had been very good so he hadn't been here in a while. He almost wished he hadn't come.

"Were you?" Hylaarr started walking towards his mate, steps carefully slow. "And when your mother brought up your sister's new child you felt nothing?"

Osset're's mouth opened this time in pain. He shook his head denying that pain. Hylaarr continued forward. "What about when she mentioned the Battle of Karrees Eeenn's orphans? What then, did you simply want to open your heart to those who needed a heart to love them?"

Osset're shook his head then straightened. "Yess." He practically hissed.

Hylaarr stepped closer, lowered his head, his mouth next to his mate's ear. "And you simply forgot the child we both lost four years ago today?" Hylaarr's whisper was ice this time, pain laden ice.

Harry sucked in his breath and shook his head. He didn't understand why they were so angry and hurt and fighting.

Osset're didn't move, couldn't move. "A boy, Seren told us, it would have been. He'd be three now." Hylaarr hissed at his mate in anger and both Osset're and Harry trembled. "Tell me, Osset're Li'essha what would you have called him had he lived?"

Osset're couldn't handle his mate's anger any longer. Faster then Harry could see he pulled away and was across the room. He snatched a glass globe an threw it at Hylaarr with deadly accuracy; however Hylaarr had anticipated this and moved a bit the left. The globe shattered against the wall and a cold whooshing thing raced out of it screaming and fleeing the room. Hylaarr merely waited.

"Of course I remember!" He abruptly screamed. "Every Gods forsaken day I remember!" He was nearly spitting in rage, but tears ran down his face as well. Fire also ran down his skin, mimicking the tears. Harry sucked in a breath and realized he was near tears too. He buried his head in his knees so he couldn't see them anymore.

" I REMEMBER. I remember the pain of him being taken, he was inside me, if just for a day. Magic and love and a child inside me and he was ours." Osset're was openly sobbing now, little hiccuping sounds that sounded like tears themselves. "I can never forget." Harry pressed his face hard into his knees. Osset're's voice was calmer but he couldn't look, not yet.

"Then Why Did You Let Her Torture You!" Hylaarr spat out in a roar, that brought Harry's head up fast. Hylaarr was snarling, still standing across the room but his fingers were curled into imitation claws and his lips pulled back to reveal flashing white fangs. "You sat there and acted as if NOTHING were wrong. You let her pick at you and you...you...you stopped me..."He was so angry he couldn't continue.

Osset're had dropped his eyes to the floor. Huffing little breaths to stop the tears. "She wanted a reaction, she would have been worse, she would have gloated and.."

"So you let her torture you out of what? Pride? Stubbornness?" Hylaarr's voice was ice now.

Osset're snapped his eyes up to look at his mate. "You _don't_ understand Elven, ways. You never even try!"

"Why should I when every elf I meet is like your mother?" Hylaarr snarled. "I _hate_ your Mother!" He bit out finally.

Osset're's mouth worked soundlessly in shock. "Well, I hate _your _mother!" He finally snarled. Despite himself Harry nearly laughed but covered his mouth in time and watched Hylaarr. Hylaarr must have found this amusing as well though, because his mouth twitched before he controlled it.

Osset're's eyes narrowed and he shook his fists in anger on either side of him. "Don't _laugh _at me! I do! She was vile and she left the protection of a clan and made you live in squalor and then had the nerve to die and leave you on the street for three years!" Hylaarr didn't make any effort to stop the laugh that line brought and his eyes were bright with it when he stopped.

"Osset're my mother was banished from her clan." He started stalking his mate again his eyes bright with amusement. "She died on the streets. These things she had no control over."

Osset're merely growled. "She left you alone. You had to be raised by Werewolves!" Harry's eyebrows rose at that. Werewolves? Wicked.

Hylaarr finally stood in front of his mate. "Something I thoroughly enjoyed may I remind you."

Osset're sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his mate's chest. "Yes well, I know that, but still the idea, if you hadn't met you fathers, is rather appalling."

"Hmm." Hylaarr merely nuzzled his mate's neck dropping kisses up and down the side. Abruptly he stopped and grabbed Osset's wrist. "Bed." He ordered with a tug and Osset're blinked and followed him.

Harry snorted, it really wasn't that late. Distractedly Harry decided to follow, he was kinda tired too, and the bed was big enough. If he stayed at the end perhaps he wouldn't intrude.

Hylaarr pushed Osset're on the bed in a rather bossy way but Harry had seen it before. Perhaps it was a vampire thing. He yawned a bit. Vampires were very interesting. Getting up on the bed was hard because it was high but he had practice doing things like that and so he was curled up at the end of the bed by the time Hylaarr had climbed in.

Harry watched as Hylaarr pushed and pulled Osset're into a comfortable position and Osset're merely let him fuss. Finally Osset're was trapped snugly between his mate and the bed, his long white hair gripped tightly by Hylaarr's left hand and his wrists held easily in Hylaarr's right. Harry watched as he fed Osset're yawning a bit.

It was a little boring, but Osset're liked kissing and after all that magic would be hungry too. Harry knew all about vampires, they had to drink blood. He didn't mind, it probably tasted good to them. Actually from the silly purring noise Osset're was making he must really like it. Harry's mind drifted, he didn't really want to go back. Maybe he'd just sleep. Sleeping on a bed was very nice.

"Osset're we will talk about your punishment tomorrow." Hylaarr's voice was calm. Osset just 'hmmed'. Harry smiled at his careless unconcern, it was nice. Hylaarr must give good punishments. Like working in the garden. Harry liked that one, even when it got too hot.

"Saith." That was Osset're. Harry was very nearly asleep.

"Hmm?"

"If he had lived." Hylaarr tensed abruptly awake. "I would have named him Saith."

The unseen form of an invisible Harry Potter faded before he could hear Osset're's grief and Hylaarr comforting him.

* * *

**And I've decided Harry's going to have to be Submissive. Oh well. You know you love it. Still no reviews . Sigh. Oh well. I like my story. So there.**

**Fitful**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay so, I've decided to cut the author crap at the top of the chapter. You want the disclaimer/warning/summary please see chapter 1. I kept reading it whenever I read over each chapter and by now I'm heartily sick of my own chatter. You probably are too so I'll keep this brief. I will be giving you a heads up on Warnings at the beginning. I really don't want to traumatize any one but Harry. **

**Now First I want to thank the three people who reviewed. I won't do this very often I don't think but as only a few did review I'd like to show my appreciation. **

_**History **_**also brought up a few things I've been meaning to address anyway. Namely Hylaarr and Osset're ****are ****Harry's parents. Hylaarr (Dominant) Osset're (Submissive). Seren, that's the bitch you met in chapter one, had a vision the moment Harry was conceived and for an as of yet unknown reason, you don't know I do, attacked Osset're and made it look as if the child were killed but actually stole him, a just conceived Harry, and gave him to a mortal wizarding couple, Lily and James Potter, ****without their knowing, ****doing a bunch of crazy spells to damper the creature/Vampire/elven blood and make Harry look like the Potters. Now Lily gave birth to Harry thus the, born to those who have thrice defied him, holds true. **

**James and Lily did die when Voldie attacked just so you know. This chapter kinda implies that they didn't. **

**Harry is a Submissive, I've found that the abuse makes it impossible to make him other wise, but don't worry, I've always had my own definition for a sub, as in a Submissive is someone, always creature or other race, that is extremely powerful, so much so that they need the stabilizing relationship that D/s entails or their magic makes them go boing. That's crazy if you didn't catch that. That is my main basis on why the Vampires hold those relationships and why they've recently begun to follow The Ancient Ways which I haven't touched on much just yet. **

**Now that all that is addressed on with the Warnings.**

**I just have to say that writing bad guys is hard. Now Voldie was easy, I love his evil madness which I enjoy turning into farce as much as I can. Seren was annoying to write but really everything just made me hate her and her character. The Dursleys are a boring lot, all jealousy and hate and I'm nearly sick of writing it. I do have to say that when I touched on Petunia in this chapter I ended up making her into a monster, and she was the hardest to write so far. I was really horrified at how vicious she came out. I know I said that in the last chapter but really I went back and read the abuse there and compared to the abuse here and the difference was staggering. And so WARNING: Child abuse in this chapter. It came out so violent I was literally trembling after I wrote it. I think I made a comment about sick minds and considering I was talking about myself you can see why I was so horrified. You might not want to read it at all but it does foreshadow a lot in the way of a secret I'm keeping under my hat. It's the last paragraph in the part with Petunia's point of view, down towards the very end of the chapter. **

**Yeah so that's it. On with Chapter Three. **

**This chapter is Beta'd. Say Thanks to Ori.**

* * *

Chapter Three

July 10th Evening

Two years later.

Marge Dursley was visiting. Harry was frantically dashing about the kitchen in a wild attempt to keep the progress of dinner moving forward. Unfortunately the task of feeding his uncle, cousin, and Marge Dursley was so monumental a small five year old boy was doomed to failure. Petunia Dursley knew it too. She sat in the sitting room, in the corner chair, which allowed her to supervise the boy's progress without actually helping. Indeed her voice carried easily and she deliberately directed the conversation to a topic she knew neither Dursley could resist. Harry.

"That boy better not burn a single crisp, Pet." Vernon raged, "because so help me if he does!"

Petunia Dursley sniffed calmly. "He wouldn't dare. He knows there'd be nothing to eat for a week should he burn a single pot!"

Vernon glared in the direction of the kitchen once more before lowering himself to the couch and clicking on the tellie. "Tell me why we're having the boy cook again, Pet?"

"Because." Petunia snapped. "I had to visit Dudley's school. Some snotty teacher thinks our precious Dudley-dums is falling behind or some such nonsense. She kept on so long I didn't have the time!" Petunia glared at the boy scarring about the kitchen. "Besides, it's about time for the little freak to start pulling his weight!"

"I'll say!" Marge roared. "How old is the brat now. Three? Four?"

"Five," sneered Petunia.

"High time to be doing something," Marge agreed loudly, nodding. "If he's too stupid for school you might as well put him to work!"

Petunia sneered again. "He's too stupid for learning anything beyond simple orders. If we put him in school, the teachers would be after us for all kinds of money for tutoring and such. There's no point to it."

"Besides," Vernon growled. "If we stuck him in school he'd be in class with Dudley. The poor boy is already terrorized by the boy's creeping about at home so much that he's falling behind. If they had lessons together Dudley would come home a complete wreck!"

Dudley Dursley had been present but said nothing so far his eyes glued to the tellie almost unblinking. Now he paused to look at his father and screw up his face and whine, tears leaking a bit. "Harry did it!"

Petunia was by his side in an instant wiping the tears away and kissing his face, whispering apologies about that horrid boy and promises of a new toy.

"That, boy!" Marge boomed. "I don't know how you put up with it Vernon! The child skulks about in those horrid rags, so quietly he must be up to something. If I were you I'd have him hauled off. Surely there are places for delinquents like him." She turned to glower at the kitchen but as her neck was nearly non-existent she gave up after a glare at the wall.

"It is trying at times, Marge, but a beating now and again keeps him in line more or less." Vernon grunted, eyes glued to the tellie, clearly only paying attention now because they were discussing that boy. "Besides we've tried that before, dropped him off at the hospital the very night we got him, but somehow he was right on our doorstep when we returned."

Marge frowned, rolls of fat jiggling as she did. "Odd that." She eyed Petunia's suddenly pale face. "Didn't you try again?"

"Oh loads of time over these past four years. Dropped him off at shelters and shops and even in London that last time, right, Pet? The boy somehow manages to scurry back here like a flea you can't kill, always back in his Cupboard by morning-"

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed, nearly dropping the empty teacup she had picked out from beside Dudley.

"Oh hush, Petunia, I know all about the cupboard." Marge watched her sister-in-law over her teacup taking in the pasty skin and trembling fingers with something akin to glee.

Vernon blinked at that. "And she heartily approves!" he bellowed in satisfaction. He still hadn't cottoned on to his wife's distress.

"Quite right, Vernon, it's all that pest deserves, intruding like this, even when it's clear he's not wanted." Marge watched as Petunia made a jerking motion with her head to the door, something that Vernon, with his eyes glued to the tellie didn't even notice.

Marge cackled silently in glee. "What happened to his parents anyway? You all were never very clear."

Vernon looked at her abruptly and suddenly realized what was going on. He began to fidget and darted a glance back to the kitchen, almost nervously. Marge's interest increased.

"Disappeared!" Petunia said quickly. When Marge looked at her she was surprised to see her sister-in-law was suddenly calm and had walked back to her seat and sat down. "They just up one day and left! Haven't seen them for what...6 years?"

Vernon watched his wife and trying to adopt her casual air turned to face the tellie once more. "More." He grunted. "Not since your parents' funeral."

Marge sniffed in outrage. "And they just left him? Without word or permission?"

Petunia huffed, the empty teacup clutched between bone white fingers, one of her easily read signs of rage. "Nothing!" She snarled looking away from Marge to the fireplace, her eyes a bit unfocused.

Marge cackled silently. "How horrible." She said raising her voice a bit to carry into the kitchen. "They must have really hated the little monster."

* * *

July 10th

Afternoon.

Harry was always instructed never to answer the phone. The Dursley's liked to pretend they were quite normal thank you very much and having a little freak running about making himself known somehow destroyed that image in the Dursley's way of thinking. But when Harry was suddenly pulled up from the crouch he had adopted in order to clean the bathroom floor Petunia Dursley snarled that she was leaving to visit Dudley's school and he'd better finish his chores before she got back.

"And listen here, boy!" She said very quietly, griping his chin painfully tight. "You are to answer the phone should I be forced to call. Do you understand?" She waited until he nodded before she let go and straightened. Harry immediately dropped his eyes from hers to the floor. Petunia nodded in satisfaction, "Don't go getting any airs boy; this is only for this once! And if you ever think to _use_ the phone you will be facing Vernon and the belt every night for a month." Harry paled at that and nodded vigorously, eyes still respectfully downcast. "You will answer, 'Dursley residence?' and should it be anyone other then me you will hang up, understood?" Harry nodded again. Petunia sniffed and ordered him back to his cleaning.

Harry was a bit baffled by this sudden change in things but went along as he had always, trying to obey the Dursley's as best as he could. He finished the upstairs' loo and that signaled the end of the top floor, cleaned top to bottom that morning by Harry of course. Then vacuuming the stairs and mopping the hall. The sitting room was easily tidied; the Dursley's weren't the sort to use if for much but watching the tellie and entertaining. The kitchen had been finished during lunch while Petunia ate and supervised his scrubbing of every surface until it shone. Harry was just about to head out the back yard to make sure it was in order when the phone rang. Harry eyed it warily, hunching his shoulders a bit and, feeling guilty, approached it. What if it weren't his Aunt? Despite what she said to him about hanging up he knew if it were someone else he'd be blamed for answering it. But if it was his aunt and he didn't answer when specifically ordered to. Harry shuddered and picked up the phone.

"Dursley residence?" He said softly eyes downcast even though no one was there to see.

"Boy! Harry." Harry nearly dropped the phone in shock. His aunt's voice sounded tinny coming through the phone. But it was her. And she called him Harry! His aunt never called him by his name unless they were in public and only then if others were listening.

"Yes. Aunt?" He asked his voice shaking a bit.

"I can't get back anytime soon." Petunia's voice was sour, and he could picture the pinched expression on her face as she said that. "You will have to make dinner."

Harry did drop the phone but caught it before it could clatter to the floor. His hand was shaking as he put it back to his ear. "Yes, Aunt. Shall I make what you have planned out?" Harry was trembling a bit at the thought. He'd never done more than help in the kitchen and Petunia was always right there to correct the smallest mistake with a quick harsh word and a slap; how could he ever hope to make and entire dinner by himself?"

"Yes." A small silence, Harry could practically hear her grudgingly making a decision. "Use the books and notes I've laid out."

Harry breathed in relief. That might make things easier. "Yes, Aunt."

"Vernon will be back with Marge at 4, make sure she's comfortable! I will be back with Dudley at half past 4."

"Yes, Aunt."

"WELL, get to it then." With that she hung up.

Harry carefully hung up the phone in its cradle. He breathed a bit through his mouth then sucked up air through his nose and blew it out again through his mouth. He had seen Hylaarr do that when stressed and often scolding Osset're to do the same. Osset're would make an effort at it when he said that but always blew up once full emotions reigned. The thought of his two favourite people calmed him. He hadn't seen them in a month, since he had inexplicably woken there one morning in June.

Try as he might he couldn't remember doing anything wrong that would warrant such a drastic punishment that would bring him here but had shrugged off that concern and enjoyed watching Hylaarr refuse to indulge in his birthday, even as Osset're got his way and forced them to celebrate.

Upon waking up later that morning, indeed late and sure he was in trouble for sleeping in, he had found no evidence punishment of any sort and the Dursley's acted at though nothing were wrong, going about the day as normal. If they hadn't overacted to such a degree that Vernon was almost polite to him once he would have been sure he had imagined it.

While the thought of them made him happier, and as much as he loved them, he didn't want to go about courting punishment just to see them so he might as well get started on that dinner. With that Harry took himself into the kitchen. It was spotless from its earlier cleaning and the only thing on the counter was the recipe book opened to the meal Petunia had planned to make, and the note cards that listed detailed instructions on when everything was to be assembled and put to bake. Petunia Dursley was a fanatic about organization, one of the quirks of her personality that Harry didn't really mind. Now he very nearly blessed her for that fact and set about following her directions to the letter.

Harry, at five, had taught himself most everything by observing how others did it and even paying attention to Petunia whenever she attempted to teach Dudley something new. Usually learning these skills were necessary to get by in the Dursley household but every so often Petunia would order him to learn how to do something and Harry would make an extra effort to master that skill before she had a chance to get cross about it.

Such was the case with reading. Harry had learned to read years ago, when one evening Vernon had asked him to fetch that morning's paper. Harry had got the paper but it was the wrong date and Vernon had blown up in a rage at the child at the perceived disobedience. Later that week Petunia had handed him a dictionary and a few books that Dudley had ripped pages out of and told him to learn to read. Harry had taken to the task with childlike enthusiasm and found a love of reading that rivaled his love of gardening. He had mastered reading in a few short months, and then put himself to the task of learning to read the language Hylaarr and Osset're spoke, a vampire language he still didn't know the name of.

It never occurred to Harry how he could understand another language without learning it as well but since he had been so young when he first started those dreams he assumed that he must have learned it as he had learned English. Learning to read the vampire language hadn't been that hard and one of Harry's favorite moments were when he was curled up with a book in front of the huge fireplace in Hylaarr and Osset're chambers. He had recently found Osset're stash of Elvin books as well and started trying to puzzle out that with the few words he knew.

Now reading Petunia's neat cursive wasn't a hardship at all and Harry was quickly immersed in the task of making dinner for his family, one which he knew he would be allowed to eat as Marge would be here. Usually on Marge's visits, after the flurry of cleaning was though, Harry was stuffed into his cupboard an hour before she was to arrive and there he stayed her entire visit except when something needed done or Marge wanted Ripper to get some exercise.

Harry knew better than to expect meals when Marge was there, the one time they had fed him in her presence she had sicked Ripper on him, and the dog promptly bit him and took his food. Harry was forced to eat dog food that night and was sick for days after. Petunia Dursley had refused to feed him on Marge's visits after that, saying she didn't want to waist what Marge could eat on 'that boy.' Harry knew differently though. Petunia secretly hated Ripper and didn't want good food going to such a nasty beast, but of course she would never say so.

Around 4 'o clock Harry heard his uncle and Marge arrived, and stopped to take her luggage up to Dudley's second bedroom which he had converted that morning into a habitable guest room. Then he fetched drinks for both Dursleys and retreated again to the kitchen with Vernon none the wiser as he was immersed in a loud conversation with his sister and couldn't be arsed for once to check up on Harry.

Around a quarter to 5 Petunia arrived with Dudley in tow and once greetings were done she had immediately found Harry and stood watching his progress for a few tense minutes. Finally she had left with a sniff which nearly shocked the poor child into burning the pudding as even when Harry was doing well at something she always had something negative to say. She had left after that and broke the news to Vernon that 'the boy' was in charge of dinner this evening, which would be done at half past 5 or else. Vernon had raised holy hell about that but settled down more or less once Marge proclaimed it a good idea.

Once things were quiet Harry listened distractedly to the unnaturally loud conversation as he removed dishes and set them to keep warm by the stove. It was very nearly pleasant, this chore of dinner, despite the frantic race it was tonight and the eyes of his aunt glowering at him from the sitting room.

Harry wasn't even that bothered when his intelligence was brought up and questioned but then being stupid wasn't something even the Dursley's thought punishable unless it directly resulted in Harry ruining something. Harry couldn't help but freeze a bit upon hearing the news that the Dursley's had repeatedly tried to get rid of him.

That wasn't a surprise but it was news as Harry had no recollection of any of these events, and he couldn't help but agree with Marge at how odd it was he turned up back here whenever they tried. Dinner quickly tugged Harry's attention back and it wasn't until he was carefully taking a just emptied casserole dish to the sink that he heard them talk about his parents. Oh Harry knew all about Lily and James Potter. Both his aunt and uncle were often spouting off about how horrible they were but as Harry had never really thought much about them it had never really hurt him. But this did. They had left. Disappeared and left him alone. With the Dursley's.

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly in disbelief, he had never thought about it before. Why was he here? How did he get here? Did they just drop him off with a note? 'This is Harry. You can keep him.' Harry shook his head as tears welled up. Why wouldn't someone want their child? He knew first hand that parents loved their children ferociously. Petunia and Vernon were the prime example, but so were Hylaarr and Osset're who grieved even now over a boy who died before he was even born.

There was silence in the sitting room for a bit. Then Marge cackled, the laugh only audible because of that silence.

"How horrible." She said raising her voice a bit to carry into the kitchen and Harry knew she was about to say something horrid.

"They must have really hated the little monster."

Harry jerked in shock and dropped the casserole dish the glass falling to the floor and exploding, sending bits of sharpness flying everywhere.

Vernon Dursley's roar didn't even register for a few moments, but when the large man stormed into the kitchen, red with fury, and the first blow fell Harry did register that. And the next. And the one following that.

* * *

July 10th

Sunset

Harry opened his eyes to the familiar view Hylaarr and Osset're's private chambers and sighed. He'd been so good recently. He should have known his uncle would jump at the smallest foul up, as if waiting for it, let alone _breaking_ a dish. It wasn't that Harry didn't _want_ to come, he did and dearly, but sometimes it just hurt so much that the Dursley's were so quick to find reason to punish him so harshly.

Oh the boy didn't delude himself to the fact that they hated him. He just had secretly believed that if he were good enough, if he did enough, if he was enough, eventually they might love him. This was something he had hoped for so long he had just assumed that they were right, and their harsh treatment of him made him make him work all the harder trying to reach that secretly harboured goal.

But now the truth was staring him in the face. Here he was, in the creation of his dreams, where the two people he love the most in this world were so stricken by the loss of a child they had never even met. This is what love looked like and he knew the Dursley's could never look at him with half that affection.

And if the Dursley's couldn't how must his parent have felt toward him? James and Lily Potter had given him up to people they hadn't seen in years and never even said goodbye. Harry could picture them giving him up on a dark and raining night, placing him on the front stoop to number 4 and disappearing as quickly as the darkness could swallow them. Tears made his vision blurry and he scrubbed them away in despair.

'Except they didn't,' thought Harry, his mind whispering that to him sadly. Apparently, though they hadn't been seen in years, they were still close enough to fetch him and take him back whenever the Dursleys got fed up. Unseen and unnoticed they found him wherever he'd been abandoned and brought him back to number 4, only this time entering the house and placing him back in his cupboard before the Dursleys even returned. Harry cringed in shame. The cupboard was obviously a punishment, Petunia had said that often enough, and that they had put him there, those many many times, spoke volumes. Harry had no doubt that those times were numerous. The Dursleys were always telling him to get out and never come back.

Harry tried to blink back the tears but they fell anyway. 'Marge is right.' he thought softly. 'They must really hate me.'

A deep dark chuckle caught Harry's attention and he look over find both vampires on the floor in front of, what Harry like to call the wall of windows. The dark chuckle came from Hylaarr, different from Osset're's throaty velvet laugh or chiming chuckle. The lifebonded pair sat beside each other with their legs folded, hands on their knees and backs straight. Both had their eyes closed and breathed slowly in threw the mouth for a specific count, hold for a count, and out through the mouth for another specific count. But Osset're was fidgeting. His long was hair entwined in his fingers, magic swirling around them, twisting and untwisting the ends into intricate knots. Every so often his eyes would open to quickly look around sufferingly and then close as he blew an extra hard breath through his mouth. Harry couldn't the soft smile despite his teary mood. Anyone who had spent five minutes in Osset're's presence knew how hard it was for him to keep still. Again Hylaarr's dark laugh broke his meditative breathing and Osset're's eyes snapped open in annoyance.

"Do you mind, _not_ laughing at me, Hylaarr Kiinn!" He said trying to sound annoyed but instead came perilously close to a whine. "I am trying to meditate."

"And you're doing a rather poor attempt of it with all the fidgeting, Peacock." Hylaarr's amused eyes took in his mate's twitch at the address. "You must detach yourself from everything but the breathing; all thought, distractions and _movement_ fading away. Become stillness." Hylaarr closed his eyes again and began his breathing at a slightly faster rhythm then before. Harry knew he wasn't even trying for deep meditation anymore and couldn't help but smile. His face felt a bit stiff when he did but his relief at seeing the two vampires had him pushing away the despair of before.

Osset're rolled his eyes a bit silently mocking 'Become stillness.' and then closed them impatiently and started breathing in an exaggerated and noisy way. After a bit his eyes snapped open almost against their will, as if afraid if they kept closed to long they'd miss seeing something amazing. "Hylaarr." His eyes narrowed him when Hylaarr only hmmm at him. "Hylaarr!" The dark vampire waited a beat just to rile him, then opened his eyes lazily to look at his mate. Osset're growled impatiently, "It's not working!" he huffed as Hylaarr merely chuckled again. "Truly! I am just bad at this, its never going to work."

"Really, Osset," chided the elder mockingly. "Wasn't it you who said you were the most excellent student? That you could master any skill with ease and perfection and every Master would be lucky to have the honor of teaching you?"

Osset're was silent at that, closing his eyes, and for a few moments actually managed to keep the routine of breathing in proper order for a time. Finally, he couldn't resist defending himself and huffing out a breath he turned to glare at his mate in annoyance. Hylaarr felt his gaze but ignored him, he had gone back to his breathing.

Osset're sneered. "I am demonstrating perfectly the fact that meditation is not the answer to everyone's problems." He announced this with arrogant glee, sure he was right, and waited for his mate to concede. Hylaarr breathed out a final time, almost a sigh, and opened his eyes, his body language admitting defeat.

Hylaarr shook his head in despair as Osset're grinned in relief. Harry grinned all sorrow gone as he took that in. He knew that Hylaarr was a sneaky vampire. He had seen first hand over the years how carefully Hylaarr could manipulate his mate and knew the signs of Hylaarr's acting. Hylaarr had a purpose to these meditation attempts, and not just the fact that he wanted to do them his only motivation. Harry smiled at the dark vampire Lord and finally relaxed. Oh he knew he'd soon have to go back to the Dursleys but for now he was safe and sat back to enjoy the pleasant dream.

Osset're quickly stood pulling his mate up with and him and practically dragged him over to the sitting area as if he were afraid he mate would change his mind if he tarried. The low table in front of the unlit fireplace was laid out in a feast; a variety of little bit size things decorating it temptingly. Harry hadn't noticed before but now that he did his stomach made itself heard in growling protest.

Years ago Harry would never have dared help himself to food without explicit permission. The Dursleys had instilled in him the proper fear of the consequences of stealing; but as Harry had gotten older he had recognized the necessity of eating whenever he could, if only to prevent the weakness that led to unacceptable mistakes and the punishments that followed.

Sometimes that meant stealing and he had learned that skill as well out of necessity. The first and last time he had been caught, well had been caught and had actually been guilty, he hadn't been able to move for a week and had visited the pair of vampires nearly the entire time. Even with that self interest silently giving him permission to steal, Harry would have never dared out of respect for Hylaarr and Osset're if he wasn't positive that, had they known of him, they would have given him his fill unasked. Underneath that reasoning was the acknowledged but ignored thought that said this was a dream anyway; the food belonged to his imagination and would do nothing weather he ate it or not.

Harry shied away from that uncomfortable whisper and moved slowly off the marble bench he always appeared on. His stomach yowling loudly for him to hurry up, Harry followed the two vampires. He had initially thought it a bit odd that they ate food as well as drank blood but had soon come to the conclusion that the idea everyone had of a blood sucking undead thing was utterly wrong.

If he were asked what a real vampire was Harry would perhaps think a bit before answering that they were a different type of person not adding they they were magic as well. Harry wasn't allowed to speak of magic you see. That was one of the first things the Dursleys had 'taught' him. That they were magic was undeniable, even if you hadn't seen Osset're, Hylaarr embodied the mystical and unexplained just by the way he moved. It was as if he were following some pre-written script that only he could see, and he followed it as if measured by it.

If that wasn't magic Harry would eat one of Vernon's socks, unwashed and weeks old. With that unappetizing thought Harry sat himself at a careful distance from the two vampires, who had curled up entwined in each other and sat devouring the miniature feast. Hylaarr had reclined upon a divan in a sprawl, Osset're pulled to sit between his legs, his back against the Dominant's chest.

Hylaarr had his right arm curled around his mate, his hand resting possessively against Osset're's stomach and was feeding him bit of food with his left hand. Osset're was purring in pleasure, making little noises and only occasionally shifting in a restless way. Harry thought it curious that while Osset're loved eating, he was nearly obsessed with being fed. It could have been a vampire thing but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it was purely an Osset're thing.

Carefully, waiting for those times when Hylaarr was popping little mouthfuls into Osset're's mouth, Harry helped himself the food closest to them even though it was a reach to get at. He was careful to only pick things they had already started on and he ate fast just in case they might look his way. It was odd that although they couldn't see him and, once Osset're had even walked _though_ him, Harry could interact with everything as if he were actually there.

The things he touched were solid; he could pick things up, move them around, even hold them though he was careful to never hang onto something to long lest a vampire look his way. Only Osset're had ever seen him touching something once a while back, and Harry would have laughed at the look on his face when he saw what he thought was a flower hanging in midair if he hadn't been so scared of being found out. But the small boy was cautious and was careful to never let either of them see something that might make them worry and investigate. He worried his lip at the thought of Hylaarr ever noticing something hanging about in midair. The dark haired vampire was a suspicious creature and would have kept at discovering any secret with all the many resources at his disposal, and if he couldn't explain what he had seen he would forever be suspicious after that. Therefore Harry was grateful he had such a cautious nature and kept at it, taking nothing for granted. He loved it here, this was the only place he felt safe, and he never wanted to do anything that might jeopardize that sanctuary.

Suddenly Hylaarr tensed and sat up, careful to hold on to Osset're despite his sudden inattention. He was stiff and tense as he smelled the air with an animal like movement of his head. His eyes darted around, peering into corners and sharply watching the shadows as if waiting for something so hop out and yell boo! After a moment Harry felt the air nearly hum with something, Osset're snapping to attention when it did, and then the shadows did explode, black man shapes tumbling from the corners of the room, illuminated in the sun's dying rays.

Each had a gleaming weapon in their hands and some had two with more strapped on their person in various ways. Only one didn't carry any weapons, a rather scary looking man with a mane of brown hair and wild eyes. Flames poured out his hands though and shadows danced around his feet, every so often solidifying into an almost recognizable shape with multicoloured glowing eyes and sharp rows of teeth. Both Hylaarr and Osset're were on their feet before the boiling of the shadows had erupted and both had immediately attacked as targets presented themselves. Hylaarr had suddenly found a gleaming sword, the blade a curious white metal, and had beheaded two dark clad men before Harry could even blink.

Harry just sat there in shock at the sight not even cringing in acknowledgment of the danger until a sudden explosion of fire and ice cause him to glance at Osset're and the scary wild man. Suddenly he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that these people were here to kill the vampire Lord and his mate and although Harry hadn't been able to be effected by anything before it wasn't a certain thing and now really wasn't the time to explore that.

Harry quickly slid to the floor and scooted underneath the chair he had been in, watching as Hylaarr attacked again and again heading for a goal that Harry couldn't see. The five year old was nearly in shock at the violence before him. He had seen blood and pain before, all his own inflicted on him by his uncle and occasionally his aunt in a rage, but this was far beyond what the Dursleys had ever done beyond what his mind had ever conjured as an idea of extreme punishment, indeed even contemplated might exist.

The beheading of a man, despite being garbed head to toe in black, was a gruesome thing, blood and bits of white flying about that Harry dimly recognized as bone. Each of the attackers screamed as Hylaarr's blade bit into them, and Harry cringed though he knew they had come here with the intent to do the same.

What shocked Harry the most though was the fact that it was Hylaarr doing all of the killing and maiming of the battle, Osset're attention held completely by the dark mage that rained down a storm of magic upon him, and Hylaarr drawing the attack of what seemed like an unending swarm of enemies. And what's more he wasn't hurt in the least, in fact he looked much as if he were enjoying the challenge, his terrifying fanged grin the result of no few deadly hesitations. Harry's mind could barely wrap around this. The Hylaarr he knew, though often aggressive and violent at times, as seemed the normal for vampires, would never truly hurt anyone. Harry didn't want to believe what he was seeing but had no choice.

Finally Hylaarr reached the goal that had held his attention from the beginning, a taller man, with black hair nearly as long as Osset're's white, who, despite the mask covering his face, was clearly a vampire. He too held a sword and moving to meet the vampire lord the two then began a deadly dance. The other's milling about seemed to divide themselves between Hylaarr and Osset're doing what they could to attack each Kiinn locked in battle, obviously hoping to aid their companions, though they weren't having much luck getting near the storm of magic that surrounded the two dueling mages, and quite a few had gone down as poorly aimed spell went awry. Harry took in all of this from the divan recently abandoned by the two vampires where he had moved in order to watch both Hylaarr and Osset're.

Despite how terrifying he found this and his new fear of how dangerous the vampires he loved were he couldn't help but watch, biting his lip each time Hylaarr's blurred movements faded and he could see a new wound on the dark man, holding his breath each time the blurry storm of magic around Osset're and his attacker flared or changed colour with a new spell.

Despite Hylaarr's rather blaise attitude towards this attack, obvious in the lazy way he moved at times toying with those who fought desperately to harm him and the little snarky remarks on posture and technique he shot to the tall vampire he dueled as well, Harry had a horrible feeling about the outcome of this battle.

He watched from his crouching position on the divan and kept his eyes glued to Hylaarr occasionally darting a glance at the magic storm around Osset're in hopes he would be able to spot the elven vampire. He wanted to warn them somehow, tell them to run, something bad was about to happen, but even if by some miracle he could make himself heard in this strange dream world he would never be able to get the attention of either vampire without the enemies hearing it too and what reason would they have to believe Harry anyway?

The battle held his attention so throughly Harry was puzzled when something pulled his eyes away. Looking about in a distracted fashion Harry finally spotted what it was and froze. Two glowing, unnaturally blue eyes, nearly neon in colour were looking at him. To his left, hunched over in a peculiar posture, was one of the dark mages shadow things, and this one looked rather solid at the moment.

It resembled a cat, if a cat could sit up like a person and had black skin that drifted a bit in place like smoke but still seemed stretched around a skeletal frame. Its paws were more like hands, though the claws that were visible were nearly three times each finger, and the tail that wrapped around its legs was studded along its length climbing up the spine to the head with thin, wicked looking spikes.

'Like a dragon cat made of smoke.' Harry thought in near hysteria, watching the thing watch him. Both were frozen. The reason for Harry's state was painfully obvious. _The shadow thing could see him._ Finally it cocked its head in a dog like way and chirruped at him. Harry blinked in shock, almost leaning forward to better hear the thing. He could have sworn the thing had talked... Then, abruptly, the shadow disappeared, losing all solid angles and collapsing into smoke that sucked itself into non-existence with a whoosh.

Before Harry could even acknowledge that curiosity the storm of magic around Osset're and the dark mage abruptly disintegrated just at Hylaarr scored a killing thrust on the tall vampire. Both those actions signalled the end of the battle and the rest of the black clad men started fleeing even as the twin golden doors exploded open, vampires swarming in and attacking the attackers with wild battle calls.

In moments it was over and all left alive were apparently friends, Hylaarr who stood panting harshly his sword lowered and held loosely, Osset're who stood arrogant and triumphant, and the dark mage who kneeled a bit away from Osset're on all fours apparently unable to move. Harry trembled in relief and slumped forward against the back of the divan watching the defeated dark mage who panted and moaned holding his head as if it were full of fire. Hylaarr barked an order at the vampires and strode to Osset're tiredly but nearly as obsessive about that goal as he had earlier searching out the tall vampire he had duelled.

Harry noted this but couldn't move, eying the defeated man on the marble floor distractedly. Harry was as tired as if he had been fighting too and he could feel tears starting to form which he didn't even try to gulp back. He could hear Hylaarr's sharply questioning Osset're, concern greater that his exhaustion, and then embracing the mage ferociously as they both muttered in eleven. Harry caught a few words such as 'mage' and 'weak' and something that was a curse though Harry didn't know what it meant.

His mind drifted and Harry felt as if he were floating , almost as if he was slowing disappearing but he knew he wasn't. Suddenly the dark mage quieted and his right hand twitched. Abruptly the boy remember that awful feeling he had that something horrible was about to happen and before he could do more than snap his head up the dark mage surged to his feet and shouted a long tangled sentence that trembled with the magic in it.

A part of Harry's mind wailed, and he _knew_ suddenly without know how he knew that Hylaarr and Osset're were the target. Indeed, a black cloud rose about the dark mage swirling with bits of red and green light and shot out, speeding towards the pair who had noticed but too late to do anything. A part of Harry was screaming and another growling in rage and another mourning hysterically. All of Harry's being focused on the dark mage in front him facing the pair of vampires who Harry had learned to love without reservation and the dark cloud of pain and wailing and death speed towards them.

A part of Harry exploded and suddenly the dark mage in front of him wailed and collapsed. Yet the dark cloud didn't, and Harry trembled as something _leaked_ out of him and _touched_ the cloud eating all the green light just as it touched Osset're who had stepped forward to meet it with a mage shield thrown up just in time. The shield blurred and failed at that first touch though and the darkness struck Osset're and seeped into him quicker than Hylaarr could move. Osset're trembled in shock and collapsed as Hylaarr released a hissing scream of despair.

Harry wanted to scream and cry in despair too but the _leaking_ had finished as soon as the green was gone and with it Harry could feel an empty space inside him, that whimpered with the loss and burned achingly. Then darkness claimed his vision and he felt himself fall into the black.

* * *

July 12th

Afternoon.

Harry moaned and woke to find himself on a bed the soft sun gently laying across him like a dog sleeping on his lap. Harry blinked as memory returned and suddenly terror surged. He shot up despite the pain in his body and in his head. Looking around wildly he searched for Osset're but suddenly realized he wasn't there anymore. Gulping he eyed the paisleys on the duvet and everything clicked, he was at the Dursley's, and for some unexplained reason he was upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom on the bed he had made up for Marge Dursley.

Harry felt back against the pillow with a groan. Everything he had ever known about the Dursley's shaken. They had never, not once, ever given him anything in the way of comfort. Not when he was sick, not after the nightmares that had him screaming enough to wake a heavy sleeper like his uncle, and never after a punishment not even when Vernon had gone to far and the lashes on Harry's back bled and refused to close even after Harry had applied the ointment Petunia had thrown in the cupboard.

He couldn't understand why they were doing it now, when all Harry wanted for once was to be left in the cupboard to fade back into the dream scape that would tell him how Osset're was.

If he were dead... Harry moaned and tears leaked from eyes that hurt, as if he'd been crying for hours. Leaked. That word triggered something and Harry distractedly sought out the memory. Oh. He remembered. When the dark mage fell, when the dark cloud shot towards them and he touched it and something inside him ate the green. Something that had leaked out to do so.

Harry frowned and tried to focus. He remembered feeling it, inside him and he wondered if really were there... Harry gasped when he touched that place, that had been so empty before. Now it was filled to the brim with dance liquid light. He could almost see it though his eyes were open, 'What is that?' he murmured to himself silently. That place, the liquid light, felt a bit like the air did when Osset're did magic. Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"I can do magic?" He whispered. The words felt loud in the empty room, strange coming from his mouth. Harry hardly ever talked. He was quiet and remained unnoticed often because of it. He really only ever spoke to answer his aunt or uncle and to occasionally ask a question, usually regarding a chore, which had the Dursley's glaring at him in outrage every time.

He shook his head to clear that distracting line of thought and turned back to the pool, no more of a cup, of liquid light inside him. Carefully he 'touched' it, the stuff inside was cool and pleasant to the touch and when he pulled his 'hand' back he could feel it clinging to it like fluffy honey. It wasn't heavy but it was remarkable that he 'held' it in what seemed like another hand. Wonderingly he moved that hand to touch his left real one and the stuff, the _magic_ that clung there drifted of to touch his fingers.

Suddenly the pain he hadn't even acknowledged disappeared and Harry made a soft noise of delight. Magic could heal! He brought the 'hand' to his head and the magic drifted to it much faster. Abruptly his head no longer hurt, indeed the dizzy feeling he had was gone and even his eyes, which had aching with a grimy rawness that told him he'd been crying in his sleep had gone.

Wonderingly he looked at the 'hand.' There no longer was liquid light clinging to it but Harry was still aware of the cup of liquid light inside him. He couldn't imagine ever not being so again and wondered how he could have possibly missed it before.

A happiness so brilliant it brought tears to the child's eyes lit up inside of Harry. He had magic! He was special! Like Osset're and Hylaarr and ... Harry hummed in delight unaware what he might have added to that sentence. Then just as the happiness came the knowledge that shook Harry back into thinking though the happiness didn't dim, indeed it merely quieted down and smoldered in glee. The Dursley's could never know.

If they ever found out it would be very bad for Harry. For one they hated anything that wasn't normal, anything different, anything extreme. For another if they found out it existed, and _Harry _had it of all people, their hatred would know no bounds. Harry frowned in concern before nodding slowly, making a decision. They could never know. Meaning Harry had to keep it so secret so hidden they didn't even know he had a secret. Which meant another thing. No healing. Harry winced at that but the loss was tolerable. He never had such before and really he only mourned the healing because he liked that it was magic. Magic like Osset're had. Harry's smile abruptly was gone.

Osset're. He was hurt, possibly dead, and here was Harry fiddling with magic. Harry frowned in worry. If he were there he could heal him. But he was here, in Dudley's second bedroom. Harry frowned at that and shook his head. He still didn't know why but never mind. Perhaps... he couldn't. Harry trembled at the thought but then his mind turned to Osset. Beautiful, magical, loving Osset're who could be hurt or dying and Hylaarr. He would be broken, lost if that happened.

Harry breathed in deeply. He couldn't let that happen.

* * *

July 14th Afternoon.

Petunia Dursley opened the door and was greeted with the sight of the boy sitting up watching her walk in the door. He always did that, watched things. With is overly large green eyes, so like Lily's, and those broken and taped glasses like his fathers. She sneered at the sight but was secretly, not relieved no but perhaps less cross at seeing him looking much better then he had for the past two days.

Indeed he looked as if Christmas had come, if the boy were normal and could be given Christmas like every other child out there. She eyed him suspiciously and the happiness dimmed so suddenly, she wondered if she had even saw it. Nervous at the thought she pushed that away and studied the boy. He did look better she observed grudgingly. Still pale and small in the bed he'd dropped in by Vernon the night before.

She had thought there were more bruises, though he still was speckled in them and the wounds she knew were under his clothes were still paining him as he held himself a certain way Petunia had come to recognize. Perhaps they hadn't been as serious as she had thought, hitting an unconscious child must not hurt them as much as when they were awake. Neither she nor her husband had cared about that last night, when they had been woken out of a sound sleep by the most gawd -awful screaming and carrying on the boy had indulged in to date!

Vernon had tried to deal with him as usual but this time he wouldn't wake and the beating did nothing to stop the screams and tears. Finally they had moved him to Dudley's second bedroom, vacated just hours before by Marge, in hopes that if anyone did hear the carrying on the could claim night terrors or some such nonsense. No one had heard. After a bit in the bed the boy had quieted abruptly and dropped back into the unconscious state he had maintained since the night of Marge's arrival and that disaster in the kitchen. Well, perhaps not disaster as the food had turned quite well made, but the broken dish! How dare that boy!

Breaking her mother's casserole dish out of anger at a few harsh word! The nerve! The boy had gotten what he deserved and she felt no sympathy despite being unable to wake him for three days. The freak was an absolute menace! She already had lists of punishments for the boy when he had recovered enough to stop lying about. Now the freak was awake and it was about time too!

"Awake are you?" Petunia snapped annoyed when the boy merely looked at her. Truly the boy must be simple minded to look so blank all the time! A freak in every way then! Even Lily would've have been horrified at that, a thought that Petunia actually smile. The boy's eyes widened and Petunia gloated at the fear she saw rise in them. "Well, since you are then I assume you'll be down to make dinner soon then." Petunia's smile widened. "It'll be your chore from now on."

The boy dropped his eyes at that and his voice came out as a croak when he answered. "Yes, Aunt." She sneered at the sound and address, awful to be reminded of that fact every time the boy opened his mouth but he was only so intelligent and she couldn't get another response trained into him at this late date. "Aunt..how long?" Her eyes narrowed at him, though his eyes remained on the duvet and his shoulders hunched submissively, his hands clutched at the cloth and Petunia frowned nervously. He hadn't done that before. And the fact that he was asking questions! So soon after such a punishment. It was this room! He was getting airs, thinking he was normal. Her lips drew back in a snarl. That freak of a boy would never be normal!

"Four days." She bit out. "Marge left yesterday and Vernon put you in here to keep that dog from scratching the cupboard door and couldn't be bothered with returning you." A lie but it wasn't as if the boy would know. "You certainly will be returning to the cupboard tonight, and be staying there indefinitely." The boy's head nodded.

"Good, I'll expect you downstairs in 15 minutes, boy!" Petunia turned to leave, relieved to be able to escape the freak's presence. Only 6 more years, and then those people would come to fetch him. They'd see what he was like, even freaks like them wouldn't be able to ignore the fact that he wasn't normal!

She tensed when she heard a deep breath. The boy was going to speak again! How dare..

"I'm not feeling very well, Aunt." Petunia whirled around in a rage to look at the still bowed form.

"What?" Her voice was very quiet, but was whiplash fast and filled with rage. She could feel herself trembling and tried to convince herself that yes it was rage.

"I'm..I'm not feeling well, Aunt."His voice was even softer now and Petunia had to take a step forward to hear, she was visibly trembling now and was absurdly grateful the boy wasn't looking at her. at his next words that feeling evaporated. "I think I need to go to a hospital." His voice was shaking as he said that but she didn't even notice. The boy was... he was... She was very nearly hyperventilating. He was defying her! She couldn't think. She had to escape. Had to tell Vernon.

"No."She snapped and turned to leave, nearly running in her haste to reach the door. Her hand was trembling and when it reached for the knob it missed and she had to try again.

"I'll tell." The voice was barely a whisper but it echoed around the room as if shouted. He sucked in a breath noisily and said it again. "I'll tell. What you do to me."

Petunia nearly whimpered in despair but rage took over and had her spinning about and stalking over to the boy, rage, dammit _rage_ making her tremble. "You'll do what!" Her voice was an ugly thing she didn't even recognize and she forced herself to grab his hair and pull his face up to hers. His eyes were huge at this and his entire body trembled beneath her hand. Good.

But it wasn't. He continued. "I'll tell a neighbor." His lilyeyes bore into her. "Even if no one believes me they'll hate you forever."

Oh god! She wanted to scream. With a shriek she did. She screamed and cursed and spit. Her fingernails dug into the child's face and soon blood ran down her hands. It wasn't enough. She threw him in the wall, still gripping hair, and smashed his head against the wood paneling, again, and again, and again. He never fought, never made a sound and after the first time his head hit the wall he was limp and dead weight in her grasp but still she continued, screaming obscenities, tears running down her face. Dead, dead, dead. She wanted that boy dead like she never had before! Now she knew why Vernon continued to hit an unconscious child. He was hoping if he hit hard enough it would never wake up.

* * *

July 14th

Evening

Harry woke trembling, his eyes taking in his surroundings in relief so great he burst into tears. Crying softly he huddled on the bench, whimpering softly. There was no pain, not here, but the memories chased themselves around in his skull nearly making him sick. He had done it. He couldn't believe that he had. More he couldn't believe his aunt had been so cruel. He had never imagined...

Harry huddled there for how long he didn't know. Finally his tears stopped. And he remembered why he had done that. Osset're! He rolled over and pushed himself off the bench, hitting the ground in a run and, unheeding of everything, hastened to the bed. And there he was.

Osset're lay on the bed, still and so pale he looked dead, tucked into Hylaarr's arms and held so gently it made Harry want to cry. But he couldn't. Hylaarr was there, eyes open but staring unseeingly at nothing, and Harry knew even if he were visible the vampire wouldn't have seen him. Carefully he scrambled up onto the bed and knelt next to the still mage. He hope this worked. It had to. Breathing softly he reached into himself and looked for the cup of liquid light.

For a moment he couldn't find it and panic had him trembling again but wait... there it was. Oh so gently he 'reached' into it with two 'hands' filling them and bringing them forward to touch the elven vampire's chest, directly where the darkness had sunk into him. Breathing harshly he pushed the magic into the vampire he loved, holding on to that love when a slippery surface resisted and finally broke letting the magic seep in. Gasping Harry trembled when the magic sunk in far faster than the dark had and then continued to go into the vampire, leaking out of Harry so fast he was dizzy. His 'hands' emptied but the magic raced down his 'arms' to filled them again and again until he was struggling to pull out more, 'tugging' on that cup, draining it to the last drop. Finally there was no more left to give and he was forced to drop his hands, his real hands which had molded with the other ones to help push in the magic.

He swayed, and couldn't help himself from leaning over finally laying down in front of Osset're and Hylaarr. Unable to take his eyes away, he watched them and it was only because he was watching that she saw swirling of magic rising off Osset're and gently kissing Hylaarr before settling down to hum around the vampire mage.

Slowly colour seeped into his face and his breathing softened into that of true sleep just as Hylaarr did the same. After a few moments passed it was obvious that both were deep asleep, where no dream could even touch.

Harry sighed in absolute relief and allowed himself to move a bit closer to Osset're, just a breath away from touching him. Sleep began to tug him down as well and he fought it, wanting to watch over the two vampires, to make sure everything was well.

He lost the battle and felt himself falling into a peaceful abyss. But softly before he did he dared reach out, and for the first time touched one of the vampire's he loved so much. Smoothing a small hand down the soft skin of Osset's face he couldn't help but nearly cry at the longing he felt. He wanted so much for them to love him. Forget the Dursleys, he wanted to be their son. Trembling he pulled his hand away and closed his eyes.

"I have magic, you know." Harry whispered softly into the quiet. "I healed you." Perhaps they heard that, somewhere in their dreams. Perhaps when they remembered they would be grateful. Perhaps they would love him a little bit if just for that.

* * *

**So I know I've been updating like mad since I started writing this story but as of this chapter I'm now sure I will keep writing so I'll probably be more comfortable in take my time. I want to continue writing chapters long like this but as I will be moving in a month I have to devote some time to packing. I also work and do need sleep so this won't be fast in finishing. **

**Love you all lots. Enjoy.**

**Fitful**


	4. Chapter 4

**To those reading and who have been chomping at the bit for an update. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I'm late. I missed my self imposed deadline and I have no excuse. Here is an extra, nearly two thousand word chapter in apology. I hope you all won't expect one this long from now on as i don't think i will ever do it again. **

**First is just want to say that I hate OCs. I won't read anything with an oc warning, and if Harry or any other character suddenly becomes involved with one I will stop reading the story. There are a few exceptions. Some really great stories out there have ocs and despite that they number among my favorites but most ocs are horrid and i just can't get into a story with an entirely new character because of them. Because of that I completely understand if you're hesitant to continue reading my story because of Hylaarr, Osset're and the bitchy Seren of course. I just want to maintain that my characters WILL NOT become focal points nor will this fic become a personal novel hiding behind fan fiction. They will not be main characters, only supporting in the fact that they are essential to Harry's mental and emotion well being, (Hylaarr and Osset're), and they WILL NOT become romantic interests, though who knows how far 'lessons' in being a proper Submissive will go. For some reason the beginning has been dominated by **_**my **_**characters and I know I haven't spent enough time building Harry's. I will strive to do better. In apology Harry's more, well **_**Harry**_** here and there are some familiar faces we all either love or hate or love to hate…hmm yeah. **

**As to reviews, thanks again. I know I said I don't care about reviews, and really I don't, but starting a story is hard and I can't help but appreciate feedback. I guess I just didn't realize how it felt to receive a review. Like getting a present and a compliment wrapped up together. I've read nearly every fan fiction, (Harry Potter) that was worth reading that I could find but I can count the times I've reviewed on one hand. I'm going to have go back and reread everything! I need to express my appreciation!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you might recognize from ****The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Anything you do, (smirk) belongs to Douglas Adams.**

**Also hate flashbacks. I'm a bloody hypocrite I know.**

Chapter Four

October 25th Early Morning

Two years later.

Harry's eyes traced the path the ant was taking, watching as it slowly traversed the cobbled walk, climbing over strewn gravel and broken sticks that stood in its path. Frowning in intense concentration he reached out with a breath of magic and 'smelled' the air. Then slowly, with infinite care, he 'pulled' and bits of water raced through it to congregate in a small puddle directly in its path. Well it was a small puddle to Harry, but rather like a large lake to the ant. Harry watched curiously as the ant milled around in shocked dismay before choosing to go left and following the edge of the water around to the other side where he picked up the line he had been going in as if it were a paved road that only he could see. Using that small bit of magic left a tingling feeling racing along underneath his skin. Harry liked to think the magic was waking up and perhaps stretching when it did that, as if it was getting ready for the day and anxious to start it off right. His lips quirked at the thought and touched that cup of liquid light asking it to 'fill' him. He immediately felt a strangely happy affirmative and suddenly his pulse was pounding as if he had been running for his life, and his head was swimming as if he had hung upside down and let it all pool there then abruptly stood up. He could _feel_ the magic, coursing through his bloodstream, tangling at his pulse, pounding in his temples, and occasionally reaching out and lightly 'touching' things around him. The old oak tree he was tucked up against, the water in the puddle he had called, the various birds that laughed and sung to the rising sun, the endless array of insects and _life_ that scurried about the surface of the ground, and then _down_ into the earth and touching the endless _life _there before reigning itself back, sinking back into Harry's skin and blood and then deep down to fall back into the cup that held it.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. He loved doing that. He did it every morning and could feel his control growing. Magic was nearly effortless now, and although it sometimes took a bit of logical thinking, Harry could do just about anything he wanted. Well anything he wanted within a certain time frame and only in a certain place. Currently he was in the courtyard of F.P Betelgeuse Elementary School and it was about an hour until school started and he had been here for the last twenty minutes. The reason Harry came so early was because the Dursleys didn't feel he could behave enough like a normal person to ride in the car. Therefore Harry had to wake up early enough that he had the time for the 45 minute walk. Oh, he had tried to leave closer to when school started but the Dursley's enjoyed making unreasonable demands just to make him late, only to punish him when the school called to mention it, and so he had taken the easier course and finished his chores and left before they even woke up. You see the Dursley's had never wanted for him to go to school so when this past September arrived and Harry was unceremoniously dragged out the door with Dudley and dropped off, Vernon growling at him to find his own way there from now on, Harry was the least to say surprised. Despite the rather abrupt way it happened, Harry took to learning like Dudley to chocolate. He was astonished that there were adults who devoted everyday of their life to answering the curiosity and questions of little children. The fact that his professors actually _wanted_Harry to speak, answer and reply was the most uncomfortable thing he had experienced and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the Dursleys weren't the nicest sort of people.

But Harry knew better than to actually do well in school, at least on anything that would be reported back to the Dursleys. If they had any inkling of how much he loved it there, they would be sure to make it so he couldn't go, most likely in a rather nasty way that forced him to call in sick. Harry would never do anything that might jeopardize the few hours of freedom he had, and made sure to ignore the teachers, fumble tests and never turn in homework. This led to punishments by the professors and calls home, but the punishments were laughable in comparison to what Harry was used to, some were even enjoyable, and the calls home, while giving Vernon an excuse to chuck a fist his way, seemed to please the Dursleys. Indeed they wore a satisfied grin when his monthly report came and refrained from any drastic punishments although that might have been due to rather obvious new fear of being found out. Harry of course would never tell. Despite of the realization that his parents must have hated him something awful he was determined to follow their wishes and remain with the Dursleys. Harry assumed it was because of the fact that they wanted him to stay with family that they had left him here and Harry bowed before that desire, despite the odd resentment he felt now and then. You didn't get to choose your family after all. If you could they would have never have chosen him.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes; and like it had been for a little over a year the memory played out again in his mind. Harry had been cleaning Dudley's room as the six year old sat at his brand new computer enthralled at a game he had just gotten. It was obvious Dudley was loosing and each time he did he grew more and more frustrated. Finally the computer beeped at him, signaling another failure and Dudley had smashed his fist into the screen in anger. The computer died immediately and when he couldn't get it to turn back on he threw a fit, which naturally cause Petunia to come running. Dudley of course blamed it on Harry and Petunia had taken the hot iron she had been using to Harry who had promptly collapsed at the pain. Vernon had taken his rage out on Harry when he returned but had finally stopped abruptly and dragged the bleeding and burned six year old out to the car where he had hunched over the wheel driving, muttering lowly to himself. Then suddenly, without slowing down, opened the door and pushed him out. That had been horrid. Tumbling from a moving car, falling down a steep incline into wooded area where he lay unable to move until unconsciousness claimed him. He had awoken a bit later still where he had stopped rolling and moaned still unable to move. That was when a figure, a woman, had moved into view, and stood staring at him for the longest time. He remembered murmuring 'Mum?' in disbelief and nearly crying in happiness when she had moved forward, crouched beside him, and a hand and gently caressed his forehead. He remembered her smell, of lilies and vanilla. It had felt so good, almost like being loved. It was the first time anyone had every touched him in that way and he had started crying. Finally his hard work, taking the punishments, the chores, the biting belittlement, had paid off. His parents had returned! His mum! She was going to take him home and love him and whisper that he had been good and it was over. Falling into a true sleep Harry had been lit up with a happiness that ate away every dark memory, every lingering pain, every scar, and melted them turning them into grateful love. But when he woke again, he was in the cupboard, new wounds Vernon had clearly inflicted upon finding him there aching and he had collapsed into silent tears, for once wanting to give up. Wanting to die. For the first time he had hated. Hated himself, hated living, hated the Dursleys, and more hated his parents. That night had haunted him since playing over and over again whenever he closed his eyes. It had been his sixth birthday that day.

Laughter rang out, causing Harry to blink and turn towards it in suspicion. He sighed when he caught sight of children, a few faces recognizable as his classmates. There was one downside to school and that was the children he had to attend it with. They all hated him which wasn't new or surprising but Harry had enough bullying from Dudley and when he received it from nearly every child in his grade it made it more difficult to tolerate. They laughed at his glasses, his small frame, his stubbornly maintained silence, and the submissive behavior. It didn't help that Dudley called him freak just for laughs and ordered him around like usual whenever a teacher turned away. He was different, he was a freak and everyone could sense it. Even the other children sometime singled for bullying sneered at him and called him names, as if when they did they were able to forget that they had ever been in his position. He had once caught a sympathetic gaze and held it in silent challenge. That challenge had failed and the boy had scurried away without a look back. Harry had kept his eyes down ever after that.

Sighing Harry watched the children arrive, and only when he saw Dudley entering the building with a Piers Polkin did he follow, eyes down and shoulders hunched as he walked quickly past anyone who noticed him. A few times he was shoved into the wall, laughter tinkling back to him, but he said nothing, made no move to object or chastise, and finally he made it to his classroom, where he edged along the wall and around the room to sit at the front by the window. It helped being near a teacher, students couldn't do much harm for fear of reprisal, but it did make it more difficult to ignore the professors some of whom still tried, even after a month of failure, to get him to participate, or just say something. Harry never did though and now most thought him too shy or too simple to even bother with. They were paid very little here, and therefore most didn't feel the need to go the extra mile for no reward.

John James Peter was unfortunately one of those exceptions. He was a rather pale man, with reddish blond hair and amber eyes that while weary more often then not were filled with kindness. His voice was very gentle and he was infinitely patient with every child in his care. He always entered the class with a quiet good morning and never left without a pleasant have a good day. He was in charge of reading and writing, and nearly every child had blossomed under his gentle hand. He never shouted, never reprimanded with more than a frown and a mild comment, and only a few times had he actually had to follow through on a punishment, which was inevitably to come see him at the end of the day and talk about the misbehavior that had occurred. Harry couldn't ever imagine this man with an angry bone in his body let alone a vicious one. Harry hated him.

He always tried to meet Harry's eyes when he entered the classroom, and as the desk reserved for the Professor sat in the corner directly across from Harry he used that as an excuse to ask his how he was every morning. Harry never replied of course, but that never fazed the stubborn man. He would merely smile and say it looked as if Harry was tired today, or 'Harry, you look as if your having a good day.', or 'I wish I could be this awake in the morning!' with a rueful chuckle and a smiling face before he would move on to the day's lesson. During that lesson he always followed the same path in observing each student, pointing out a helpful tip, whispering a 'well done' and often pulling a piece of candy of Dudley's hand with a chuckle saying he would leave it on the desk when he left. He always ended with Harry where he would crouch beside him and show him an example of how to write his cursive this way or whisper that the definition of this word was similar to that word. Even though Harry ignored him he would always say 'Well done, Harry. A very good effort today.' before moving on and starting the next part of his lesson which was always story time. Harry always sneered when he said it, like it was a birthday party or a piece of cake. Harry hated listening to his voice and refused to even acknowledge the discussion after every story though he grudgingly admitted that the stories were good.. This wasn't even a part of the act Harry maintained to fool the Dursleys. Harry truly despised this adult and if he had lived anywhere but at the Dursleys he would have schemed to get himself out of school to avoid him alone.

You see Harry didn't trust him. No one could be that mellow. No one never was angry or never raised their voice. No one loved children whom they had never met before and didn't belong to them the instant they walked into a room. Harry was certain that at home this man was a very different person. Perhaps even a violent one at times. Harry shuddered to think what this man got up to if he wasn't. He didn't even want to know. Harry was aware that the way he felt was rather unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. The memory of the first week here also haunted him, not as much as his sixth birthday, but nearly.

Harry had made the mistake of smiling at the kind professor on the first day of school and he knew it was a mistake the moment it happened. The small bit of smug triumph in his eyes said something, though Harry couldn't tell what. After that Professor Peter was nearly constantly at his side. A helpful hit here. A compliment there. Harry could nearly feel the jealous gaze of Dudley from across the room and cringed at what he knew would happen when he got home. He was right. Vernon was exceedingly upset that 'the boy' had succeeded in charming the new Professor before his precious son could and Harry had limped into the classroom late the next day. Immediately the Professor's head had snapped up, almost reminding him a bit of Hylaarr, and an angry look had ever so briefly crossed his face. Dudley had cackled in glee from his seat but the look was gone so fast that Harry was sure he had imagined it. The professor had gently asked Harry to take his seat and had spent the entire class watching him intently. Just before he had left he had asked Harry to visit him after school to discuss his tardiness. Dudley had left for home that day, nearly bouncing with the news.

When Harry had arrived at Professor Peter's office he had been quietly asked to sit. Then, concern in his posture the professor had asked him about his home life. About the Dursleys. Harry had kept his eyes down, and answered every question with a brief but practiced reply. He knew what this sudden interest in him meant. Professor Peter though he was being abused. Harry was panicking inside. His mind raced around in little circles. He had enjoyed his first day more than anything in his life. The professors, the lessons, the freedom was heady. Harry knew if his home life was suddenly investigated the Dursleys would find out that he had fouled it up in barely two days. They would find someway to make sure he never went back. The professor somehow had picked up on Harry's terror, though he couldn't fathom how, and had gently whispered that anything he said would be kept between the two of them. That he wouldn't be in trouble, that it was OK to tell the truth.

And he had believed him. He had thought that if he told him, he would back off. He would know that Harry was a freak that must be punished, despite how harsh those punishments were, and then leave him alone. When the Professor had asked him if his relatives hurt him, if he was afraid of them, he had nodded, confirmed it, practically screamed a yes with that guilty nod. And the Professor had said he understood and he had sighed in relief and left nearly shaking with exhaustion. When he arrived home the Dursley's had smugly told him to stay in his cupboard, punishment for being late to class that morning and late home that afternoon. The next day everything was fine. His professor kept his distance, though he still watched him.

But when Harry had arrived home he knew everything had gone wrong. The Dursleys were acting. There was a stranger in their home. Suddenly Dudley's second bedroom was being called his and Petunia was fawning over him as if he were Dudley. Vernon had told him, in a soft gruff tone that the nice lady had some questions for him. He was to answer honestly and everything would be fine. Vernon's eyes said differently. They said if he even uttered a word against them nothing could stop his wrath once he got a hold of Harry. And so he had lied. Of course he had lied. Even without the threat of uncle Vernon's rage he would have done so. He had said that he loved his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and that he had only said he was hurting from a beating because he wanted to get out of punishment for being tardy. Harry said that he had been late because he had thrown a fit over what his Aunt had served for breakfast and she had made him stay and finish it before school. He had said this in a rather bratty but guilty tone and whispered apologies. He had said, tears in his eyes, that it hadn't occurred to him that his family could get in trouble over his lie. He had remained quiet all though the stern lecture the lady had given him and didn't move when she apologized to the Dursleys. He never questioned it when he was told to sit down at the table and eat dinner with them. He hadn't even blinked when they told him to sleep in Dudley's second bedroom. And when Petunia, told him she would wake him to take Dudley and Harry to school then had kissed him good night, he hadn't even shuddered.

The rest of the week the professors were angry with him. He had received quite a few vague lectures on lying from a few and he had avoided Professor Peter's disappointed and worried looks. Friday, he had finally been cornered by the Professor who had firmly taken his arm and pulled him gently into his office. He had apologized, asked 'why he had lied?' He had asked if anything hurt and said that this time he wouldn't tell anyone, he would just make it better. He had a strange look in his eye when he said that but Harry couldn't puzzle it out. Harry had sat watching him the entire time. He had said nothing. He had wanted to cry, but more he had wanted to yell. He wanted this strange man, with his odd calm facade and painful kindness to just tell him what he wanted. To reveal he had an alternate motive, that he had wanted to hurt Harry or that he wanted something from him. His eyes said he did, but Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. Harry had felt anger and hatred and he had for once in his entire life let it out. He had said 'I hate you.' He had watched as the Professor had paled and stopped his gentle coaxing. Harry waited for the anger. The rebuke. The slap to his face or anything! Professor Peter had simply looked sad and broken and had whispered 'I know.' And Harry had yelled. He had stood up and screamed. 'You don't know! You can't even possible understand. Pain? What do you know of pain?' He had sneered. He had touched his magic and let it curl around in his fists but left it there. 'What, you think I don't deserve it?' He had felt tears start to fall. He had fallen back into his seat and mourned the loss of something precious. 'I trusted you,' he had whispered. And Professor Peter had touched his hand, and caressed the palm, and his tears had slipped to fall on their entwined hands. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. Forgive me.' The Professor had been on his knees begging Harry. Harry couldn't function at the wrongness of that. 'Don't ever talk to me again,' he had _ordered_. Then he had left and never looked back. He had never spoken a word to another professor again.

When Harry had gotten home Vernon had taken him into the garage. All Harry remembered of that was pain. When he had arrived in the vampire's chambers he had left the bench and curled up next to a sleeping Osset're and cried until he fell asleep. He never wanted to trust anyone ever again.

October 24th Morning

Remus John Lupin carefully collected everything he would need for the day's classes, putting it into his bag, and placing a trembling hand on top of it. The full moon was three days gone but he couldn't bring himself to call in sick. Everything in his body, even or perhaps especially the wolf, insisted that he had to watch over Harry. A sudden tightening around his chest and heart, lines of magic burning inside of him, had him jerking back and shaking his head in shocked pain. The wolf snarled at the constraints and Remus let it rise just enough for it to coax them to release them, both Remus and the wolf. He stood there breathing harshly and weakly scolded himself for forgetting. The magic bindings, placed by professional healers, were all that kept him from grabbing Harry and fleeing with him far, far away. The magic of those bindings knew it too and so were all to quick to remind him that he was a prisoner, that he'd better remember it, that he, Remus John Lupin was not to have contact, influence, or in any other way approach one Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived. The wolf sneered at the title and grumbled viciously about living to be hurt by rabid pack. Remus laughed weakly and 'touched' the other mind inside his with an soothing 'hand,' apologizing for both causing his mind mate to defend them and being unable to avenge the pain of the last of their pack. For the past 5 years, ever since the day the mind healers put the bindings on him, he had been able to 'hear' the wolf. At first he had been frantic with worry, afraid of the darkness that seemed to be growing. Afraid that the mind healers were right and he _was_ going insane. But the wolf had agreed with him on the issue of Harry, the belief that they should be raising their pup, and he had pushed back against the magic binding them and allowed Remus to be able to actually think about Harry without pain. It was the wolf who had coaxed him out of his grief and whispered that they needed to leave, that their pack was in danger by the very fact that they weren't there to protect the weaker other half. It was Remus who had convinced him that they had to do it right, and together they both convinced the mind healers that they were better, that they were right and Sirius Black _had_killed Peter Pettigrew, betrayed the pack, and was now dead, along with Lily and James. That of course they knew they couldn't get custody of Harry, the wolf had to be restrained by Remus during that session, that they knew Harry was better off in the muggle world with family that loved him and of course they knew that his condition would be a danger to Harry should he even try. Together they had walked out of St. Mungos basement ward, privately funded by Albus Dumbledore, and left the wizarding world altogether. Together they had searched and Remus hid the fact that they were searching, and together they had finally found the Dursley's, Harry's muggle relatives, whom the Ministry had said in a press conference had agreed to take Harry in and give him a loving stable home until he was ready to return to them again.

That had been three years ago. Remus had watched the Dursley's carefully for months waiting for a sight of Harry. As he was unable to even turn down the street they lived on he had to wait until they left and then stalk them on their outings. It was a year before he even saw the child. The four year old had followed his aunt in the most Submissive pose Remus had ever seen. The wolf confirmed that Harry was indeed acting like a submissive but growled that his attitude leaned more towards a mate then a pup. Remus had worried at that, fretfully thinking that perhaps the Dursleys weren't loving guardians as had always believed. Indeed he had been sure they were wonderful, as they spoiled their own son outrageously and couldn't be convinced that he was badly in need of correction if you paid them. Remus had despaired a bit as he observed this, sure that the boy would be spoiled nearly unredeemable by the time he had reached Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore's idea that in the muggle world he wouldn't get a large ego but Remus had feared that he had made a rather drastic mistake. Until he saw Harry. Then he was sure that he had only in a rather different way. The child was small and thin, clearly malnourished as Remus well knew the signs. He was dressed in over sized rags and squinted at everything when his eyes weren't cast seriously down to the ground. The reason for the outing soon became clear as they let the child into the optometrists office and led him out again a half hour later wearing slightly used over sized black frames, Harry's green eyes wide as he took in the suddenly clearer world. The wolf had snarled in rage and immediately took control, as much as he could outside the full moon not that Remus really tried to stop him. They were only a few yards away when the magic bindings reacted and clamped so tightly around their heart that it stopped. Remus had awoken in a muggle hospital. Apparently the muggles believed he had had what they called a heart attack and had revived him. Remus had been very grateful but also nearly hysterical with worry when he realized that he couldn't get close to Harry. That it was impossible and Harry would be forced to stay with the Dursleys until he could figure it out.

He had spent the next two years devoting himself to finding a way to get to Harry. Day, nights, weeks of research only lessoned the magic bindings. That coupled with the wolf allowed him to continue to search for a more permanent cure and temporary way for him to see the child, speak to him, reassure himself that he had only been neglected, that physical abuse had never happened. It was shocking how simple it was once he thought of it. He changed his identity. Magically, of course, and suddenly a new face, body, and person by the name of Alex started doing yard work on Privet Drive. Never for number 4 though and it was soon clear why. Harry did all that. It was the only time he ever saw him and the wolf howled in rage at the obvious ill treatment of their pup. What also became clear was that Privet Drive was being monitored by the ministry. Not long after he had started his odd career move Aurors started popping in, looking at everything suspiciously. Their magic had recorded a dark creature on Privet Drive and they were there to investigate. That led Remus to reluctantly pull back, both the wolf and his own heart protesting. They couldn't be found out. If that happened they might never escape St. Mungos again. Bloody Hell they might not even get sent to St. Mungos. The wolf had thought about that for a moment then snarled in what seemed like anticipation of revenge. Remus had shuddered and shied away from that. He wasn't ready to face Sirius yet. He wasn't strong enough.

The ministry magic was impassible. Dumbledore had been alerted to the presence of a dark creature on Privet Drive and had personally strengthened them. Remus was forced to contemplate other options. Finally he had learned of the elementary school. John James Peter had been born. John, his middle name, James, for Harry's father and Harry's middle name, and Peter for poor Peter Pettigrew 6 years gone. He had applied and been taken on as a temp. That had worked out well but there was a problem. Harry wasn't there. He had searched other schools, temping, and finally was forced to conclude that Harry didn't attend any of them. The Dursleys had denied him education. The wolf was enraged and they had come up with a plan. Posing as the muggle ministry they had written to inquire why their nephew didn't attend school, asking if there was a medial issue that needed to be added to their records and if there was could they have his doctor write up a diagnosis and file it with them for his permanent record? Not two days later Harry James Potter was enrolled at F.P. Betelgeuse Elementary for the following school year. Harry would be seven. Then he had researched each professor at the school and finally filed an anonymous complaint against Professor Liam Grey, for suspicion of pederasty. This ate at his conscious but the wolf was able to convince him that it was necessary.. A week later John James Peter was hired as the new Writing Professor.

When he had walked into the first class of the day and found his pup sitting by the window closest to the desk he was filled with a happiness so profound he couldn't keep it to himself. He pushed it into his character, trusting the secret identity as a kind professor to mask it. In truth his attention never wavered from the messy haired boy in the corner. And when his circuit of the room ended with the small child he had breathed in his scent, and watched him carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort. And he had found none. The boy's scent had been normal, and he had sighed in relief and set to helping the quiet child with his class work. The boy didn't say much but he listened avidly and was quick to grasp the lesson as if he already knew it. Remus had gently praised him and was rewarded with a small shy smile. The wolf crowed in smug triumph, pleased that their pup had recognized them as pack and was a step closer to trusting them. Remus indulged the wolf and went back to teaching nearly giddy with relief and happiness. Everything was going to work out alright. He was patient with the rest of the class but couldn't help but focusing on his pup. His pack mate. A child he had loved since he was born and was the last of those he could love without guilt. He left that day at peace for the first time in almost six years. Little did he know that it was the beginning of the end.

When he walked into class the second day and his pup wasn't there a pall of foreboding drifted over him and he set distractedly to the lesson, worry clawing at his gut. When the door opened and in walked his pup he could smell the change instantly. He could smell blood. His pup, his child, his Harry was in pain and the wolf was so enraged that Remus lost complete control for a moment before he gently pushed him back down, promising, vowing to fix it. He asked the boy to find his seat as gently as he could and set to the lesson, desperately planning ahead. Watching his pup throughout the morning he came to the conclusion that the boy had been whipped, and not very skillfully as a few lashes must have broken the skin enough to bleed. Also his leg had been hurt which was noticeable only to Remus as the limp was so slight Harry probably didn't even realize it was there. Grimly he finished lessons and gathered his things. Before leaving he asked Harry to come see him before leaving school to discuss his tardiness, noticing the look of glee on the fat face of Harry's cousin. Frowning he contemplated how Dudley fit into the abuse in the Dursley household. Obviously he was overfed, overindulged and unrestricted which could be considered abuse but compared to Harry was merely favoritism. He would have to look into that as well though. Even in his state he couldn't condone leaving a child in an abusive household despite the fact that he wasn't aware of his abuse.

When Harry quietly came into his office later that afternoon he asked him to sit, concerned at the scent of fresh blood, the more pronounced limp, the smell of pain. Harry had taken his seat with a cautious glance around that had Remus and the wolf tense with rage. Then Remus had quietly asked about the Dursleys, noting the flair of fear in those bright green eyes before they dropped to look submissively at the floor. He could smell the panic in the boy's subtly quickened breathing, his faster beating heart. But amazingly Harry never twitched a single hair and his breathing had soon eased into a regulated pattern. He was soon answering Remus's questions with respectful but firm replies of 'I love the Dursleys, Professor Peter, and 'I have my own room, Professor and though I have to do chores and Dudley picks on me sometimes, I really am happy.' in such an earnest tone that Remus nearly _believed_him despite the growling of the wolf; angry, frustrated, and a little proud of their pup, in the back of his mind, and the scent of blood and pain in his nose. Remus was insistent and had pressed Harry for more details, asked more questions, and then repeated them to catch the child in a mistake. He never had. The boy was perfection at the art of misdirection, body language, and lying in such a way you had to know the truth to know he was. Despite all this the wolf wasn't fooled and neither was Remus. He had been best friends with his father after all; a man who, while a blunt aggressive Griffindor, was as accomplished with lying to get out of trouble as his son seemed to be. He watched at the small signs of panic and hysteria, nearly invisible on this child, wound Harry tighter and tighter as the interrogation went on. The wolf whispered of his fear and his pain and his trembling, though that soon became visible too. Finally Remus couldn't torture him any longer. He had whispered to him that anything he said would be kept between the two of them, hoping for something concrete, perhaps the confession of the beating that still bled, heavy in his nostrils. Anything that he could take to the Headmaster of F.P. Betelgeuse and insure that his pup was immediately removed from the Dursleys care. He had reassured his pup that he wouldn't be in trouble for telling, snarling at the thought, that it was OK to tell the truth. It was OK to trust him he whispered in his mind and that thought seemed to echo over and over again until the wolf snapped at him to pay attention.

Remus had heeded his mind mate and leaned forward, ducking his head, and looked at Harry then carefully coaxed his eyes to meet his eyes and holding them pulled both their heads up. 'Do the Dursleys hurt you, child?' he had asked and physically restrained himself from touching Harry. 'Are you afraid of them?' He had held Harry's eyes and his breath, just waiting. The room had spun before the boy had nodded, ever so slightly in what seemed resignation and almost relief. The wolf hadn't commented on Remus's assumption and merely had growled, snarled, and demanded to be let loose. The Dursleys would pay and their pup would be safe. Remus had ignored him and had nearly cried at the realization of what was just confirmed his pup had been a_bused_. He had been taken from his dead mother's grasp and forced into the grasp of another who had resented it and had hurt him because of it. And Dumbledore! Remus snarled silently. Dumbledore must have known. How could he not? All the lies, the 'Remus, you must believe me, there is no way Sirius is innocent,' the 'It pains me to say this, my boy, but have you considered your grief is overwhelming you? You need help, child. Please let an old friend see to it you have it.' and finally the 'Harry is better off in the muggle world. He will be raised with loving relatives instead of an awestruck wizarding family, and when you see him again he will be ready to listen to the tragic details of what killed his parents.' All the lies of a controlling old fool who had too much magic and too much power. He had merely wanted a pawn, the realization dawned suddenly on Remus and he had trouble controlling his rage, the wolf's rage. He had known that Harry would be at best, neglected and had thought it was all for the greater good, the better to insure the loyalty of The Boy Who Lived to Albus Dumbledore, Mugwump Extraordinaire. 'I understand.' he had whispered and Harry's sigh of relief had suddenly brought his attention back to him. Feeling unable to control the wolf any longer he had let the boy go. Looking back he knew that had been the biggest mistake of his life.

The next day the Headmaster had come by. 'It seems the boy was lying,' he had said. 'I told you, you were jumping to conclusions, Peter. Young professors like you usually do, before they have the experience to weed out the fiction from the lies.' He had looked a stunned Remus in the eye. 'Because of your youth I will say I understand, people make mistakes, but I do want you to learn from this, boy. Accusations of child abuse are a serious thing, and for it to come to light the boy was lying, well I assume you can figure out how it will reflect on the school.' With that he had left, and Remus had collapsed as his world had crumbled.

Failure had eaten at him all week. Harry had avoided him, avoided everyone, and hadn't spoken more than a word to anyone. The other professors assumed he was properly ashamed and approved. He had heard that a number of them had talked with him. They had lectured him on lying and Remus had mourned that the those reprimands, while perhaps justified, would never be heard in the context the were being given. He had watched his pup intently, but breathed relief when he hadn't come to school bleeding or in pain. Perhaps the incident had stopped the abuse. Perhaps the Dursleys were so terrified they wouldn't attempt it again. He had hoped but knew deep in his heart that he hoped in vain. Once the dust settled, and they weren't so scared they would hurt his pup again and this time it would be infinitely worse. Finally Friday had come and Remus was determined to help his pup the only way he could. If the child must stay in such a situation surely he could at least ease the pain as it came. At the end of the day he had cornered Harry and gently pulled the submissive child into his office. Aching, he had apologized. He had said that he had been sure things would be investigated carefully and the truth uncovered. Harry had merely stared at him, completely blank in expression and scent. Carefully unaccusing he had asked why the child had denied the abuse. Why had he lied? When he received no answer he had pushed forward in his plan and asked if anything hurt. He couldn't smell any pain but any child so terrorized must have a high threshold. If he had something that could be healed perhaps the trust that had been lost could be slowly restored. The secret of magic was often a cure for anything. He had asked if anything hurt and after pausing had whispered that he wouldn't tell anyone this time, he would just make it better. The thought that perhaps the child was hurt too badly for his rather extensive spell work had crossed his mind and he had pushed it away, not wanting doubt to show in his eyes. He poured out every ounce of love he had for the boy into his eyes instead. He tried willing Harry to trust him. To take that brave step forward, like the Griffindor he knew he would be, and accept help from someone who so disparately wanted to give it. When he had received no answer for long minutes he had started to reassure him but stopped at the low words spoken as if the full moon had risen and gripped him in her relentless grasp. 'I hate you.' He had felt the blood drain away. The words echoed in his heart and he knew that they were true and he had mourned that he had been the one who had hurt the boy enough to say them. 'I know.' he had whispered in despair and watched as the boy's face had twisted into the most hurt pained expression any werewolf could imagine. And Harry had yelled. He had screamed. 'You don't know! You can't even possibly understand!' Pain had gripped Remus. Pain for his pup, pain for his failure. 'Pain.' Harry had _sneered_, so like those times when Severus had been so humiliated that he had cried. 'What do you know of pain?' What indeed. Remus had begun to suspect that he had never truly known pain before this moment. Then like wind, like scent, like angry rain magic had filled the room, pouring from the seven year old child in front of him. It hadn't danced and waved in an uncontrolled aura around him either but had 'answered' and 'obeyed' and screamed silent rage at the source of Harry's pain. The only visible source it could see. It had been a sharp blade in Harry's hands and Remus had felt as if he were held at wand point by Dumbledore only the child never moved. Indeed he had begun to cry and had fallen into the chair and curled up into himself silent sobs tearing Remus apart. 'I trusted you.' he had whispered and Remus knew he had lost something precious. He had knelt, mourning that loss desperate to do anything to get it back. He had touched his pup for the first time in six years and taken his hand. He had started to sob and knew it was all over. Harry would never be his again. 'I'm so sorry.' He had whispered nearly trembling with guilt. 'Forgive me.' He couldn't help but beg one last time. He knew it was in vain. Harry; submissive, abused, hurt and betrayed Harry had sharply pulled his hand away and ordered the werewolf in a tone that sent shivers down his spine. 'Don't ever talk to me again.' he had said and Remus had known it was over. Harry had left him kneeling in front of the chair and never looked back. He had also never spoken a word to another in Remus's presence again.

Although he had known nothing could be salvaged he had nearly fallen apart when the child had returned on Monday, pale and broken and determined to hide it. Remus hadn't even bothered to approach him but cast every spell after healing spell that he could do silently and watched over him as best he could. It had been weeks before he no longer smelled of blood and pain. Each day Harry had come in with fresh blood in the air around him. Remus had despaired and hated himself. If it weren't for him and his utter incompetence the child wouldn't be hurting now. If he knew what was best he would kill himself he thought. Better yet, whispered the wolf, he would put the pup out of his misery, a child so broken couldn't be fixed anyway. Remus had snarled in outrage and hadn't spoke to his mind mate for a week.

Now Remus was there only to watch. He wasn't allowed anything else. Not by the bindings holding him, not by the Headmaster who watched him, and not by Harry who either ignored him or stared at him in hate and suspicion. Even so he couldn't being himself to give up and leave. No. As long as Harry was here, was relatively accessible, he would stay. He would keep a silent vigil and if ever the time came that he could do anything to help Harry he would. And damn himself, and damn the consequences.

October 25th Noon

One of the more intolerable times of Harry's day was lunch. A time when children piled screaming and laughing and chattering in high pitched voices into a single large room and proceeded to create utter havoc and devastation in the form of food. Harry was utterly shocked when he had attended that first day and proceeded to watch the entire display in fascinated horror. This was what a zoo looked like when all the animals ran loose. The professors ignored the children completely and the children took advantage of that freedom in heady abandon.

Harry was a small bit of quiet in that sea of chaos. He huddled into himself and slunk into the seat at the table in the back corner nearest the doors and windows. Careful to never look up, lest he meet one of the rabid animal's eyes, he pulled out a small paper bag that had Harry written on it in Petunia's neat cursive as his aunt insisted in making the lunches and did it religiously every night before bed. Inside it was a small sandwich, an apple, a bag of carrots, and a cardboard jug of milk, and a rather large cookie. Harry took them out and set them on the table. Then he bowed his head and kept his eyes on the table and waited. It wouldn't be long now.

"If it isn't the freaky retard." Finally greeted him and he looked up to see a brown haired boy named Sean standing over him. Harry immediately looked down. The boy was older than him by a few grades and quite a lot bigger. He was also standing in an aggressive, arrogant way that had Harry's instincts whispering at him to give over and submit. At least Harry thought it was his instincts. Sometimes he wondered if it weren't his magic that ran along his shoulders and spine and made him want to whine and bare his belly or neck in silent begging of forgiveness. Or perhaps his magic was his instinct. That was always possible too. Whichever it was it more often then not helped him in these situations and Harry never felt more right than when he listened even when it all turned out bad.

"Aren't you going to eat your, lunch, Freak?" Sean flicked a finger at the apple causing it to wobble. Harry felt himself being watched with those rather buggy black eyes. Despite his submissive pose Harry wanted to roll his eyes and laugh at the idiocy. With all the advantages these children no doubt had you'd think they'd be smart enough to come up with more clever ways to pick on someone. It was possible they were allowing for Harry's now well known stupidity but he rather doubted it. This one never varied in his taunting. He was always the first to come up and always said the exact same thing.

"Your aunt sure must be something, carrots and apples, and oh here is a peanut butter cookie. How sweet." The mocking smile showed crooked and cavity stricken teeth. Harry had glanced up quickly to see them, just as he did everyday, before quickly looking down again. It was a strange fascination of Harry's the way Sean's teeth were crooked and pointed enough that they had sharp edges. Harry had wondered at first if the boy was related to vampires if very distantly before dismissing that idea. If he were then he wouldn't be so incredibly stupid. "You really ought to eat it you know, your pathetic enough at it is." Suddenly the apple was shoved in front of his face and held very close to his mouth. "Well, Potter? Aren't you going to eat it?" When Harry didn't respond he pulled the apple away and tossed it on the table in disgust. "You're such a twat, Potter." he said with a sneer, then left and headed back to start on his own lunch. The apple rolled off the table and sped across the floor finally wedging itself underneath a trashcan.

Harry went back to waiting. It never took long after that. Some threw things at him. Food, erasers, bits of paper wet with spit. Some actually walked by the out of the way corner table and accidentally spilled food on him. Some came up to taunt him about things; his lunch, his clothes, his glasses, his silence, his stupidity, and the odd rumors of his little lying habit that everyone spouted and didn't care were true or not. Small wonder who let that out. Harry eyed the bulky frame of Dudley Dursley heading his way. The seven year old boy was taller than average, which helped with the problem of his weight, but he still was half as wide as he was tall. He took his time, often looking back to make sure his friends were watching and cheering him on. Finally he reached Harry, who still sat, his food untouched and his fat paw snapped out, fast as a snake, to grab the cookie. Munching he started in on his usual taunts.

"Well, Freak, you finish that homework for Professor Whitman?" He knew very well that he hadn't as Harry's been sent to the cupboard as soon as he had gotten home the night before. Even if he hadn't he knew by now that Harry never turned in homework.

"You really need a haircut, you're beginning to look like a girl." Harry paled at that and hoped Dudley never mentioned that one in front of Vernon or worse Petunia.

"I'm really getting board of this new game I got. I'm thinking it might break soon." Of course it would.

"You still cry at night, Harry? Missing your parents I suppose. Too bad they thought you were a freak too." Yeah they had but Harry wasn't missing them anymore. The memories had replaced that longing.

Finally Dudley grew board. The cookie was gone and he grabbed the sandwich and milk, leaving the carrots of course, and left with a cuff to Harry's head which Harry didn't even acknowledge. He actually didn't mind those. They hurt but the pain was a dull throbbing thing, that was often comforting in a strange way though Harry could never figure out why. He only felt that way when Dudley hit him and it never failed to puzzle him, one of the few things about Dudley Dursley that did. Perhaps, it was Dudley's way of showing affection, or if not affection comradely, or something. Harry dismissed the entire thought. He couldn't figure it out and Dudley would never tell him willingly if he even knew so there was no point. He would keep an eye out for any explanation though. Harry believed in watching and keeping track of everything. The more you knew the less surprised you would be when everything finally played out.

Now someone might wonder why Harry endured this daily routine of daily torture. If he knew it was going to happen why did he even show up for lunch? The reason was actually very obvious at least to Harry. It was the Professors. They all attended lunch and although they ignored the other children Harry was singled out because of he was a problem at F.P. Betelgeuse Elementary. They watched him when they didn't even see Joshua Hailey was stealing a younger child's lunch money. They wanted to make sure that he didn't disrupt their school with any unfounded accusations again. Of course Professor Peter watched him for a different reason but Harry knew all about that. Well he thought he did. Sometimes he wasn't sure. It seemed as if the young Professor was worried about the abuse Harry suffered but sometimes Harry caught him staring at him with something else in his eyes. Something that was soft and possessive and made a fearful tumble in Harry's belly, almost a bit like before he was sick. Harry hated him and the way he looked at Harry. He didn't even want to know what was behind those looks. But the attention paid him, for once, helped Harry. Every day Harry came in for lunch and the professors noted the paper bag; the sandwich, and the apple, and the carrots, and the milk. And more importantly the cookie. A loving guardian gave their child cookies. They would give them fruit and vegetables out of concern for health, but the cookie said that the child was loved. That the child was good and well behaved and they were proud of that child. It was the cookie that convinced the Professors that Harry had been lying and he wasn't abused. It was Harry himself, by refusing to eat the hand packed lunch, who confirmed that he was malnourished by his own poor eating habits, perhaps a bit spoiled and picky even. And it was Dudley who finished it off by giving the Professors the excuse that explained Harry's small stature. He missed a meal a day, because his large cousin stole his lunch. That was common with cousins, brothers, families. Food was snatched and dessert stolen and arguments raised in healthy rivalry. It was Dudley's attitude, not too bullying, taunts that obviously had connotation to events outside school, and he helpful snatching of the cookie that filed away every Professor's last concern and had them seeking their own lunch again. And that was the reason Harry showed up every day to lunch.

And though someone might mourn if they knew the fact that Harry could at least have one good meal a day if the wasn't so careful and ate the food in hiding like any normally abused child, well you would be wrong. If Harry had eaten the food he would be worse off as it was poisoned. Oh not by much and Harry had long ago deducted that it was only the sandwich and the cookie, both made with careful attention to contents. The cookies were always made from scratch and always the batch was separate from what his aunt made for Dudley. Harry didn't know what she put in them but didn't really care as he knew better then to eat them and they didn't seem to do much harm to Dudley except to give him a stomach ache for a few hours. The sandwich on the other hand, Harry knew while looking nice actually was filled with expiring meat and rotten lettuce. Harry did worry that Dudley would get sick eating that, even though it would have been his own fault and would have served him right or at least taught him something, but Harry knew that Dudley never ate it. He would chuck it into his own bag and devour the enormous lunch his mother had lovingly packed until even his large stomach was full and then toss the bag in the garbage and lumber back to class never the wiser. Harry was exceeding grateful to Dudley for his part in Harry's new charade. Not that he let it affect himself much not did that little bit ever show. It wouldn't do to encourage the little monster.

Now that his self imposed appearance was over he was free to do as he liked. Lunch lasted an hour here and Harry spent most of it in the library. It was the only place that he felt safe. Dudley would never set foot in the library especially during lunch and the children who lived to torment him never thought to look for him there. Harry could loose himself for hours without having to be contentious of doing something that might give something away. He would curl up in a corner and read until he was to report for class. It was the best part of the day. It was his only freedom, caged though it was in the restriction of time. Now all that was left to do was leave unnoticed. Head still down he allowed his breathing to slow, his awareness to extent out, and sunk his 'hands' into the cup of liquid light inside him. Then he whispered to the room, the magic breathing out to touch everyone there, to insure that they heard. 'You've forgotten about me. You don't notice me. I'm not here and you don't know when I left or where I went.' Still breathing he pulled his 'hands' out and back and opened his eyes. After a final breath he looked up. No one noticed. Breathing slowly he stood up. Still no one noticed. Keeping an eye on the Professor, adults were more likely to ignore the whispering of magic, he slowly left the room only relaxing enough to look down and keep his eyes on the painfully scuffed hallway floor once he was out the open doors and beyond their view of the hallway.

Slightly smug but more relieved to have escaped unnoticed once again he made his way towards the library and the sanctuary it represented. Harry took the precaution of going in a meandering way. If anyone saw him he didn't want them to know where he was headed. It also afforded him more protection as he only went down halls that had classed still in attendance who already had enjoyed lunch. If he were to run into someone that thought it would be fun to torment him the fear of disturbing a class and the wrath of a Professor usually kept them on a short leash. He entered the library in relief but stopped short when he saw the Professor standing at the check out desk, talking quietly to Miss Harper, the school librarian. The Professor looked up at Harry's entrance, almost too quickly for his comfort, and smiled at him in relief. Thanking Miss Harper he quickly walked towards Harry and met him just inside the door.

"Harry. I must have just missed you, you left so quickly." Professor Peter's smile invited Harry to do so as well. Harry merely watched him. He never dropped his eyes to the floor with this one anymore though his body screamed protest at this disrespect. Harry did not smile and finally the Professor's dropped too.

"Your Aunt his here, Harry." he said quietly. "She's already picked up Dudley and they're awaiting you in the car."

Harry's eyes widened at that and he left quickly still without acknowledging his professor. When he was out of sight of the library he began to run. Harry hadn't a clue why Petunia was here, why she was picking up Dudley, or why she even wanted to see him but he knew if he kept her waiting any longer he'd really be in for it. Skidding to a halt when he got outside he scanned for the car and upon finding it raced to reach it. He nearly gulped when he say Vernon driving and both Petunia and Dudley in their seat. Harry dropped his eyes to the ground and waited.

"Well get in, boy! We haven't got all day" Vernon growled and Harry knew by the tone that he was in a horrid mood. As was his aunt he saw when he peeked a look at her as he climbed into the car and onto the towel laid out on the seat. The Dursleys didn't think that Harry could control himself in the car and always made him sit on a towel to protect it whenever they were forced to take him anywhere in it. Like a dog Harry had often compared it but never complained. He didn't know how he could ruin the leather upholstery but then again he didn't know much about cars either.

"Do we have to go?" Dudley whined as Vernon pulled away from the curb, tires shrieking. "I was planning on going home with Pier today, he has a new game that I want to play."

Despite her lack of knowledge at this plan she cooed at him in apology. "I'm sorry, Sweety, but the school won't let the boy attend if he doesn't have all his shots."Petunia's voice was a combination of sickeningly sweet and and vile outrage though Harry didn't know how she could pull that off. "We'll be in London so we can get you a new game if you want, hows that?"

He threw a punch at Harry who merely ignored him and sat watching out he window. "Well, why can't he just not go?" he mumbled. "He didn't before."

Vernon and Petunia didn't reply to that.

Then Dudley brightened when he realized what was going to happen. "Shots? He has to get them?" His eyes gleamed in delight. "How many? Will there be blood? Can I watch?" He eyed Harry like Harry was a bug. "I could hold him down so he doesn't squirm." Despite all the abuse that Harry endured, Dudley was really very innocent. Of course he saw Harry get a fist chucked his way but any thing major and most of his punishments were major, Vernon or Petunia did privately, away from Dudley, usually turning the tellie extra loud just in case. Dudley wasn't really very bright anyway and he was very unaware of how badly off Harry was and so remained a normal blood thirsty little boy.

Knowing all this Harry wasn't much bothered by Dudley's words and Vernon in contrast was incredibly pleased by them. "Thats my boy! Eager to get his own back, what with the boy always taking time away from him and breaking his things." It was clear Vernon heartily approved.

"It just like that boy to be so inconsiderate."Petunia snarled. "Of course he would have to need shots. Horrid boy! Disrupting our day and without a single apology!"

As if he had know what was going on before they started to speak of it, and he must be responsible for the lack of medical records as well. Harry nearly snorted but habit kept him in check. As for the apology if he did it now they'd punish him for interrupting their conversation.

"Quite right, Pet. Inconvenient! Thats what it is. Why we could have had plans." Vernon raged and spat a bit as he said that. "Although I do understand their view point, Pet. After all if the boy bit someone, there could be infection." He said this slyly, well as slyly as Vernon Dursley could and eyed him in the rear view mirror. Harry ignored him.

It was a long drive. When they reached the doctor's office Petunia took Harry by the arm and didn't release him even when they the nurse escorted them both into a room and started examining him. Harry watched in curiosity as she poked and prodded him her frown growing as she did. Harry felt a bit of concern when she told them she they would have to wait for a doctor. Petunia's pinched expression grew more pronounced and her grip on his arm tightened painfully. The doctor, a balding man with a shock white hair crowning his head, came in and after examining Harry for a minute quietly asked Petunia to leave. She did so reluctantly and shot a _look_ at Harry on the way out. Harry knew what it meant. Calmly he pulled a bit of magic forward and looked at the doctor intently, somehow _sliding_into his mind with startling ease. The doctor was worried. The boy in front of him, one Harry James Potter, was severely malnourished and his manner screamed that he'd been a victim of abuse for a long time. The doctors initial exam had shown evidence of broken bones and a myriad of other untended wounds that had the doctor huffing in rage. He knew if he could examine the boy with his clothes off he would find an entire litany of scars and still healing wounds but he was reluctant to scare the child. He seemed so fragile. Harry bit his lip in horror. The doctor's main reason for being there was to find enough evidence to get a social worker there and have the boy immediately removed from the Dursley's custody. A small part of Harry yearned but most of him burned with determination. He would not allow that. Slowly he pushed his way deeper into the doctor's mind, into the doctors memories, and sought out the most recent. Very carefully Harry asked his magic to, _change_ them, turning them to harmless ones and _eating_what was impossible to change but so subtly there wouldn't ever be evidence that anything was missing. Curiously Harry looked at the summary of what the doctor called abuse. The list was very long and Harry was shocked at what he saw. Not shocked that it had happened but at the extensive amount there was. Harry knew he couldn't remember some punishments the Dursley's had given him but this was far more then simply forgetting. He hadn't known of over half of what the doctor simply _suspected_ was there. That caused Harry to tremble a bit. If he didn't remember it how could he hide it? Finally a troubled Harry carefully withdrew from the doctor's memories, making sure to be gentle. He was very aware that this doctor had spent years learning his trade and he didn't want a single lesson to be effected by his presence. Finally he was out and it took a moment to shake himself free of the doctor's personality and the way he thought. The doctor just didn't understand and Harry had to push away every impression he had _read_ and remind himself of who he was.

The doctor left after telling him that he needed to eat more and take better care of himself if he wanted to grow up big and strong. When the nurse came back she was upset and was very careful when she pulled out shots and needles and poked them into Harry. Harry didn't even feel them but whimpered a bit for show. What really worried him was that she would make a fuss about the doctor's dismissal of her discovery. Harry sighed and _pulled_the magic into his voice. He hummed a tune he had heard a kid sing at school recently and in his mind added words. Don't be worried, everything's fine. He's a boy and boys will rough house. There was no abuse. There were no signs of it. You were just shocked at how small he was for a seven year old and how shy. When the nurse was finished she was calmer and smiled at him. Then she gave him a lolly and told him they were through. 'That wasn't so bad was it?'

Harry just smiled back, touched now that the worry of being found out was gone that she had made any effort at all. He knew if she had known it was punishment she would have left it alone but still was grateful for her kindness. When he found the Dursleys Petunia and Vernon watched him suspiciously but made no comment when the nurse happily said that they were done. She gave them a few instructions and then they left without a backward glance. Harry could practically feel the Dursley's relief which only lessoned when Dudley grabbed the untouched lolly still in Harry's hand and asked if they could go get his game now and perhaps could they stop for ice cream? Petunia readily agreed and they quickly got back into the car and were off.

When they got out of the car Petunia grabbed him and stuffed some notes into his hand, telling him to go get himself some clothes, they wouldn't tolerate him wearing those rags anymore, and to meet them at a certain restaurant at five on the clock or they would leave him. Harry watched them in shock and slowly counted the notes. There were about 50 pounds there and he suddenly was very glad he had taken care of the doctor with minimum fuss. This was a thank you, all that Petunia would ever give him. The little voice that said this was a response to the fear of being found out, like before when he was allowed to sit with them and eat dinner and given Dudley's second bedroom for a time. That Petunia was only doing it because she would make up for it later by finding a way to punish him even more fiercely. Harry pushed that thought away and set off to take advantage of this freedom. Never had he been so free. He was alone in downtown London and he had 50 pounds in his pocket. A part of him urged him to take it and run but he chided that part gently in logical cynicism. If he did manage to actually get away his parents would find him and take him back. There was no point. That thought brought Harry's mood down to where it normally was and he finally decided to do exactly what he was told.

He found a shop and set to getting himself some new clothes. A kind woman helped him as he didn't have a clue what to do, but eyed his clothes in a way that said she thought he really did need new things though doubted he would be able to pay for them. Harry managed to finish quickly with money to spare and left wearing a new outfit the woman, Marcia, had convinced him to change into. Pleased Harry bought himself a meat pie from an old man manning a cart at a crossway and ate it slowly. It was turning out the be one of the best experiences of his life. He couldn't wait to see Hylaarr and Osset're. Even though he knew they couldn't hear him he would tell them all about it and imagine them smiling and laughing with him, telling him how clever he was to have used him magic so wisely. As content as Harry was at that moment he could imagine something better. Being able to actually be with the two vampires would be worth any beating in the world.

October 25th Late Afternoon

Harry eyed the poster for a vampire flick with disdain. Not only was the description of the night stalking undead creature that preyed on the innocent totally insulting, the picture of the pale painted actor in a black satin cape nearly had him laughing himself sick in the middle of the street. Indeed the sight of a young child laughing at an ad for a horror movie drew no small amount of curious looks. Finally Harry had himself in control, and with a quick look around to see if the Dursleys were anywhere nearby which they weren't, Harry turned to the poster with a rather evil smirk, one that was the exact duplicate of what a certain vampire lord looked like when he was about to thoroughly humiliate an opponent in a drawn out, and rather bloody, spar that more fit with the common vampire's idea of torture. Walking a bit away Harry feigned disinterest and turned to watch the crowd, eyes scanning it for the familiar girth of Vernon Dursley or the stick like figure of Petunia Dursley. Concentrating, without letting on that he was doing anything of the sort Harry pictured what he wanted in his mind, then sort of 'painted' it with magic before releasing it. Harry then looked around and casually let his gaze be drawn back to the poster and he had to bit his lip to suppress the wicked laugh that threatened to erupt at the sight. The pale painted actor now sported not a black satin cape but a beautiful violet one and his nails were subtly painted as well to compliment. Harry could help but admire his handiwork with glee. He would never have dared that at the Dursleys but in the middle of London who would possibly notice?

"Nice work." Said a voice suddenly as a blond boy stepped into view on his right. "I didn't even see your wand." Harry eyed the new person with puzzlement he allowed to show. The taller boy smirked at him.

"Thought no one had noticed did you? Well no one did, except me of course." The way he said it reminded Harry of Osset're a bit, though the boy wore such a nasty smirk he also got a bizarre impression of Dudley as well. "You know, it's against the law for you to do magic."

Harry abruptly paled and stared at the boy in horror. The boy didn't notice as he was examining the poster as if he could figure out exactly what Harry had done if he just used the right technique. "You're what five or six? Your parents must have all kinds of connections with the Ministry; even my father can't get them to bend the rules farther than the Manor wards. Unless, of course, they have other ways of getting around those rules?" The boy looked at Harry out the corner of his eye slyly but pouted when Harry merely stared at him blankly, still in shock that someone other than the vampires in his dream was talking about magic as if it really existed.

"What's with you anyway?" The boy said abruptly turning to face him, steely blue eyes staring at him questioningly. "You're staring at me as if I were, Harry Potter or something." Harry blinked in shock, and then blinked again. "Which I'm not you know." He pointed out still trying to get a response. "For one thing I haven't got an ugly scar…"

Harry nearly laughed, and finally woke up from his shock. Opening his mouth he was just about to answer that last rather humorous statement when an angry bellow made him cringe.

"Harry Potter!" A very put out Vernon was storming towards them, outrage clear in his stride. Harry forgot to breathe for a moment, if he had seen…

"Are you deaf as well, Boy?" Vernon snarled at he reached them and nearly spat in his face on the last word. "I've been calling you for the last ten minutes!"

"But he hasn't even been here for ten minutes." The blond boy suddenly pointed out in confusion, and Vernon's gaze snapped to study him suspiciously only now noticing the rather well dressed child. The blond boy didn't even pay his uncle any attention past saying that, but intently studied Harry. Cocking his head he asked curiously, "Are you really, Harry Potter?"

"Is he really Harry Pott- "Vernon broke off and whirled to face Harry; rage turning his face an angry red.

"Just what are you playing at Boy!" Vernon roared, unheeding of the scandalous looks he was receiving from passers by. "What have I told you about that nonsense! All that work! And now here you are fraternizing with another little freak in plain sight of every normal person!" Vernon, nearly frothing at the mouth in rage, was about to continue in that tirade but Petunia had shown up so fast Dudley was running along behind her trying to keep up. With a worried pinched expression she hustled them away and into the subway nearby. The subway was deserted and Vernon took advantage of that by picking up where he left off, screaming and raging about Potters and freaks and evil nearly incoherently. Harry took this all in from a distance, his eyes down and hunched over so far it looked as if he were bowing. From what Vernon had said and continued to spew in hysterical rage Harry had the sinking feeling that his uncle was talking about magic. About Harry having magic! But... but that was absurd. Harry had been so careful! 'It was impossible!' he nearly wailed inside his head. As hysterical as Vernon was Harry was more so in panic too. He had to fix this!

The entire time Petunia had stood watching her husband. She had seen the boy's confusion at what Vernon was yelling about and though she watched suspiciously she finally was forced to conclude that 'the boy' was ignorant of what was going on and who he had talked to. She wasn't about to let that get in the way of punishment but it did stop the trembling in her hands and the dizzy feeling she had went away.

Finally Vernon wound down and Petunia was able to convince Vernon that such a public place was not private enough to deal with this. Dragging a still stunned Harry and a clueless Dudley, who was devouring an ice cream cone as if it were about to disappear, Petunia led them out of the subway and to a small restaurant nearby. Telling Dudley to sit down she ordered him a meal and left him happily finishing the end of the cone. Two blocks later Petunia finally found what she had been looking for. An out of the way public restroom that, by its rather clean state, clearly didn't get many visitors, stood unobtrusively tucked away in a corner. Waiting for Vernon who pulled Harry behind him to go first Petunia looked around to see if they had been noticed before following the two through the door.

"Be sure nothing is visible, Vernon," she said with a smirk as her husband curled his fat paws into fists. "And don't get any blood on those clothes."

October 25 Early Evening

Lucius Malfoy was in the heart of muggle London waiting for a squib that was an hour late. He had been due back at the Ministry 45 minutes ago and his patience was wearing painfully thin. That he had had to bring his seven year old son into the muggle world was one of the reasons for that. Draco had been pestering his father to take him to the Ministry for months now and Lucius had finally conceded, with the thinking that it was about time for his son to begin learning what it meant to be the Malfoy heir. They had planned this outing for a week now and when Lucius had received an urgent owl from a well know reliable source he hadn't heart to cancel. And so here he was waiting, in what muggles deemed a tastefully expensive restaurant, for a squib that was accumulating minutes under the Cruciatus and a certain more permanent Unforgivable if he didn't show.

He had left Draco in a muggle toy shop, the child sneering at everything but wide eyed at the ingenuity before him. His son was the most inquisitive child he had ever met. He asked questions about everything, tolerated Lucius' strict rules of three hours study each day just because he wanted to learn, despite the fact that the boy wasn't overly fond of books. Lucius was slightly concerned with the amount of time he had left his child alone in the muggle shop. It wouldn't do for the child to become unnaturally fascinated with muggles like _some_wizards such as Arthur Weasley. Lucius sneered at the thought then pulled what appeared to be an old fashioned muggle pocket watch from his breast pocket. Ten more minutes and if he wasn't there Lucius vowed to kill him the moment he saw him. Suddenly a blond haired boy walked into the restaurant and quickly scanned it. Lucius sighed. Draco's curiosity was going to be the death of him. Draco headed for him the minute he spotted him, pushing right through the crowd as if he were a prince and they ought to know better then to be in his way, and finally reached his table.

"Father." He said in greeting and Lucius sneered and nodded to the opposite chair before glancing at the time. The pocket watch, actually a wizarding one given him by his grandfather before he died, which had read Time To Plot Murder And Mayhem , now read Time To Pay Attention To Draco and Lucius looked at his son who had taken his the seat he was directed to with a quiet distracted air. Lucius narrowed his eyes. That was very unlike his son. What had 50 minutes alone among muggle done to him? Draco was a bit paler than usual and most definitely subdued, something he never was unless Lucius had expressed severe disappointment in him. What had happened to his son? Lucius starting reviewing curses that he would use the moment he found out what muggle had so negatively dimmed Draco's bright spirit. Finally the boy spoke, though it didn't help Lucius discover a target for his ire.

"Father?" Draco was trying to act casual but hadn't yet managed to learn how to successfully accomplish that. "Did you say that Harry Potter lived with muggles?"

Lucius was shocked at that random statement but didn't allow that to show. He had said such a thing but so long ago he was once again reminded of Draco's incredible memory. He never though Draco would remember that when he said it but once again found out how uncomfortable his son's rather bright mind could be at times. Lucius ignored his thoughts and mildly sneered at the mention of The Boy Who Lived.

"I did, years ago." His tone was dismissing. He had learned more when Draco thought he wasn't interested then when he allowed his own curiosity to show. Draco merely nodded and left the conversation alone for a while. Lucius was brimming with interest that nearly had him forgetting himself and asking Draco what had happened but caught himself just in time. Really after all these years you'd think he'd know better then to forget himself even a moment. Giving Draco the information that he wanted to know what had happened was the sure way to see to it that hours would pass before he did. Draco was very accomplished at manipulation when he wanted and would maneuver and negotiate until they both were blue in the face in order to get Lucius to concede on a past argument, rule, or withheld privilege. He was the perfect Slytherin if a bit too sensitive at times. Lucius despaired of curing him of that but had continued to inform his son of the fact if just so the boy was aware enough to mask it when needed.

Now Lucius's mind ran with speculation on his son's painfully obvious words. Draco had seen Harry Potter. That was obvious and Lucius nearly crowed in glee. If he could find out where the boy was last seen perhaps he find _him_. Forget the Ministry, to hell with it, the Ministry would be overjoyed to find out the whereabout of one Harry James Potter anyway. Dumbledore had kept that secret up his sleeve so far that only himself and a few members of his precious order knew. Lucius was quite aware of how much the Minister would give to have himself on what he perceived would be equal footing with the powerful wizard. Lucius allowed himself to sneer knowing that Draco would think that he was irritated by how late his contact was. In truth he had forgotten completely about him. Lucius was immersed in plotting and planning, aching to have an advantage that no one could possibly predict. With the knowledge of where Harry Potter was he could have millions panting after him for it and a handful of those millions actually worth considering. Or he could keep it secret to use at a later date when it might prove more valuable. Even better if he could find a way to get at the boy, the influence of a Slytherin, of Lucius in particular, at least might get the boy placed in a potion later on that he could take advantage of or at best earn him the _trust_ of the boy. No doubt a powerful child and most definitely one that Lucius could use if he had the opportunity. All this ran through his head in a quick procession which never stopped , causing his watch to switch to Plotting Manipulation And/Or Coercion until Draco spoke up again.

"I saw him." Draco finally said. Then, as if in apology for keeping quiet so long offered, "He had a wand." Yes far too sensitive. Lucius might have to have another talk with his son. But now he was far to fascinated with what the child had just said.

A wand. Harry Potter had a wand.

"He was using it too," Draco continued now eager to tell news he knew Lucius would want. He could see Lucius's interest now but didn't care and that was more worrying then anything he had done so far. "He turned one of those muggle photos a different color."

Lucius was puzzled and sneered to cover up the fact he was thinking furiously. "And why would he do that?" He asked in an arrogant way, as if insulted that a wizard would stoop so low.

Draco frowned. "I don't know." He said in confusion.

Lucius took a sip of the wine that had been poured for him a while ago that he hadn't touched. That was to cover his own confusion and to stop himself from reacting too quickly. Finally he felt enough time had passed.

"Didn't he say?" Lucius was watching Draco very intently now. His son still wasn't acting normally. He usually ran at the mouth when he had something he wanted to talk about and it was clear he wanted to talk about this but for some reason didn't know how. He was also forcing himself to appear more relaxed and calmer then he was. What had happened? Lucius's grip on the wine glass tightened before he forced it to relax. If Harry Potter had done something to his son not even Dumbledore could protect him from his wrath. Slytherin's had very long memories after all.

"No, actually he didn't." Draco was frowning into the table, his shoulders almost _slouching _a thing he never did unless he was safely in his room and usually only when sick. "Actually he didn't say much of anything."

Lucius's eyes widened at his son's tone. Draco was, dare he say it, almost acting _concerned_about Potter. Lucius grew a bit cold as a million ideas ran through his head from Harry Potter plotting to ensnare the Malfoy heir as his loyal slave to death eaters showing up in muggle London and taking him away with his rather innocent son an uncomprehending witness. His mind made a million plans that all stopped short because he didn't know which one was needed. What. Had. Happened.

"Father," Draco's tone was clearly distressed now and Lucius's fingers were itching for his wand, his lips twitching with longing to whisper cruel Unforgivables. "Are muggles, naturally cruel to their children?" His eyes watched his father in painful fear. That they did. That they were even more horrid then his father had previously said. That they were monsters.

Lucius froze and his world twisted before his mind straightened out. Draco wasn't acting hurt, he was clearly upset but not in any pain. Still something could have happened, anything could have happened. Draco studied a lot, he could have learned a healing spell. Lucius' mind almost ran in circles in rage.

Draco had caught on to Lucius's distress something he would berate himself for later. "I am unhurt, Father." He quietly reassured. And Lucius's mind snapped back into functioning order.

"We will speak of this at home, Draco." Lucius stood. It was time to leave.

His son nodded obediently before asking worriedly. "We're still going aren't we?"

The Ministry. Of course. "Yes, we're still going." Lucius was rewarded with a bright smile and he ignored the fact that if it hadn't been for Potter and whatever his muggle relatives had done the smile would have been brilliant.

Lucius Malfoy and his son and heir walked quickly through the streets of muggle London until finally they came to a public restroom.

Sneering Lucius walked in and stopped frozen at what he saw. It was too late to stop Draco from entering as well and his son paled at the sight and swayed a bit. Lucius grabbed his shoulder to steady him. There were two muggles, an enormously wide man and a woman that resembled a horse if a horse were a blood thirsty cannibal. The male muggle had a small child's wrists in his left hand and was hold him up against a wall far too high for his feet to touch the ground. The child's shirt was off and among the many scars that were piled upon his back and what could be seen of his side and stomach were new marks that appeared to be made from the bits of metal that lay discarded on the floor. The child was small, smaller then Draco by far, and his forehead was resting on the wall, a shock of messy black hair obscuring his face and the scar that Lucius now knew would be there. The only one not inflicted by these muggles. The boy, Potter, was covered in bruising skin and his shoulders shook with silent sobs that couldn't be heard even if the muggle male weren't screaming obscenities about magic and freaks. The woman stood by, watching the man, her husband, and her finger nails and half her hands were red with blood and her face was twisted in an expression Lucius had only even seen on Bella and The Dark Lord. Her eyes were wild with madness, hatred, and fear. She was laughing softly and her hand kept clutching a broken glass soda bottle that was also red with blood as if it were the only weapon she had against a vicious beast. Lucius could see no way to prevent his son from seeing this, not even a Obliviate would keep his body from reacting in shock not to mention Lucius had no idea of what he had seen before except that it had effected him deeply as well. And so Lucius did the only thing he could do. For his son, who was staring at the muggles as if they were his night time monsters come to life, and perhaps a bit for the boy he had both loved and hated since the fall of the one Lucius had once called Master.

He waited for a pause, a break in the screaming of filth from the male muggle and the coinciding moment when the female had to stop laughing to breath. Then in a rather bored tone that hid everything he was thinking he let his presence be known, still gripping his son's shoulder tightly.

"Observe, Draco." He said it the same why he always did when he wanted to instruct his son in a lesson. He felt the boy respond beneath his hand, his shoulders straightening in acknowledgment, though he didn't calm in slightest. "The reason why the wizarding world is separate from the muggle world. The magicless beasts have no common sense."

Lucius watched as both stiffened in panic and fear and their eyes sought him out and finally registered what he had said. The female snarled in rage and fear, reminding Lucius of some mad Thestrel and the male had paled then reddened in fear and rage and dropped the boy who fell about six feet to the ground below. He moaned when he hit the floor but didn't move, only lay where he had fallen like a broken bird shot out of the sky.

"Who are you!" The male muggle bellowed suddenly, startling Draco who jumped beneath his hand. He eyed the wand that suddenly appeared in Lucius' hand and his eyes grew wide. "FREAKS !" He bellowed again. "I'll not have you about you horrid, Freak!" He breathed with the force it had taken to shout out the word and Lucius sneered.

"Imagine," he continued as if he hadn't heard or as he had and had dismissed the words as easily as a wizard like him dismissed the barking of a dog. "Beating a child." Lucius ignored the fact that they had been rather gleefully cutting him up with metal and glass instead of beating him. That was neither here nor there and he didn't want to remind his son of what they had been doing. Tisking he fingered his wand. "Do you remember why magic has always been used in punishment, Draco?" His son gave a jerky nod. "Because children are fragile creatures and subjecting them to violence of any sort will see to it they are scarred for the rest of their life." Lucius said this in a bored tone but the contempt he felt was obvious. Lucius smirked at the Dursleys and pushed just a bit. "Perhaps even becoming as or more violent when they grow up if just to gain revenge one day upon the visitor of their torment." He watched impassively as the male muggle blew up wishing idly that he had truly done so preferably with Lucius' wand behind it.

"That Freak, is a Monster!" The muggle threw out his hand indicated the motionless boy on the ground. "He's an evil vile thing and the beatings are the only thing that keep him from killing everything in his path. He's a murder!A _Demon_!" The spitting muggle was practically hissing. "We have no choice but to beat the evil out of him. He killed his parent! They were freaks too and he was such a monster as a child that he killed them without even lifting a finger!" Lucius watched as the boy jerked at that and finally lifted his head, green eyes suddenly visible and looking at the male muggle in horror.

"I highly doubt that the boy is responsible for _The Dark Lord _killing James and Lily Potter." Lucius's voice was calm but he was trembling with disgust and he watched as the boy's eyes fastened on him his breathing harsh, eyes blank. "You can hardly hold a child responsible for a madman who went after a boy because of a _prophesy_that stated he would defeat him!" Lucius realized he was trembling in rage too and forced himself to calm. He sneered to cover his slip. "It is as I said, Draco. Muggles have no common sense."

"Someone killed my parents?" Finally Potter spoke his voice so soft it was hardly there and so dull with disbelief that Lucius felt his own dark heart being tugged in sympathy.

"Yes." He said, studying the boy intensely. "A dark wizard, who proclaimed himself The Dark Lord." Lucius glanced ever so briefly and smirked at the muggles who were staring at the boy in shock. "One of many wizards who believe that muggles are worthless creatures that ought to be put down like rabid animals." His very tone implied that he was one of those wizards who believed thusly. "What do you think, Draco?" Lucius asked his son, smug in what he knew, after seeing what he had here, the boy would say. "Shouldn't muggles be put down like rabid animals? Or perhaps ," he allowed thoughtfully, "Chained up and beaten like dogs?"

Draco suddenly straightened and found his voice, so cold that Lucius couldn't hear what he was truly thinking beneath it. "Oh I don't know, Father. I rather fancy these diserve a punishment as well." Draco smirked, one identical to his father's. "Perhaps if is painful enough they will learn better." He said this in a obviously hinting way then added maliciously. "They are _human_ after all, perhaps they can be taught what isn't bred."

Lucius allowed himself a cruel chuckle and watched as both muggles tensed in fear. Lucius relished that look before lifting his wand a bit higher, watching their eyes track to it in panic.

"Observe, Draco." He said addressing his son but his eyes turned back to the broken child on the ground who still stared at him with utter shock in his eyes. "The first time you will witness the cruciatus curse. I had thought to wait until you were older but, I believe you will permit me to make an exception." He waited a bit, his silence asking his son to object if he was going to, his eyes on Potter who never even blinked. After a moment he raised his wand with purpose and whispered the words that every wizard shuddered to think about. "Crucio."

The male muggle screamed and fell writhing to the ground, shocking the boy into jerking his eyes away from Lucius and to the man flopping on the floor in unique agony. The muggle female screamed in utter terror and started to run to her husband though who knows what she thought she would do. Quicker then lightning he had whispered Imperio and stopped her short, forcing her stand and stare unblinking at the pain her husband was enduring. Finally his eyes tracked to Potter who was staring at the male muggle as if he could have never imagined such an event although Lucius knew he had to have at least once in the dead of night when he couldn't move and pain ate his breath and killed his thoughts and convinced him nothing would ever be okay again. Then his eyes focus on Draco who was breathing harshly at the screams but holding up admirably, his normally pale blue eyes now dark with satisfaction and not a small amount of horror. That was alright. He didn't want his son to become immune to human suffering only aware that at times it was necessary.

But Lucius had obviously forgotten the Potter boy and was shocked when the child he had though too hurt to do anything suddenly pulled himself up and magic suddenly filled the room, glorious and heady in intensity and pouring from the seven year old child now standing and staring at him with hard eyes.

"Stop it." He said it softly but Lucius heard the order in his voice and the power hissed at him like the snakes he had always so admired. Lucius was fascinated and for once since Draco had been born forgot that his son was there for just a moment, forgot that if this strangely powerful child attacked or even lost control that his son could be hurt.

"Why?" Lucius asked it rather languidly and listened to the screams with relishment. "Doesn't he deserve this? Hasn't he hurt you at least the sum of this much." He nodded to the writhing muggle and began counting. He couldn't let it be permanently harmed mores the pity.

"No." The boy began to tremble. "Uncle is right. I diserve the punishments. You don't understand. How could you? It must be this way." His eyes were begging almost fearful and Lucius knew he was missing something important. "Stop." The boy had begun to beg now. His eyes leaked tears and he was breathing harshly. And Lucius knew he couldn't continue. Potter had been tortured enough.

But before he could lower his wand Potter moved and threw himself into the line of the spell, and something Lucius had never seen before happened. His magic grabbed the spell that was Lucius's, that was never meant to be wrest from the caster and turned it on Potter before fading away as the muggle stopped his screams and the boy again fell to the ground and writhed silently. Lucius dropped his wand from that raised position and snarled in fear and horror.

"Stupid boy!" He yelled as spell dropped from the woman muggle with his concentration and she ran to the male muggle, the one Potter called uncle, and lay holding him and shrieking in fear. Lucius dropped his hand from Draco, who hadn't moved through all this, and ran to the boy. Quickly he cast healing spell after healing, some quite dark but more effective and it wasn't as if the boy were conscious to feel the pain that made them so. Finally the boy was healed as far as he could be without a professional healer and Lucius sat back and stared at the muggles a few feet away.

Slowly he rose to his feet and looked at his son. Draco was pale, shaken at what had happened but more so by Potter himself. His son stared the the broken Boy Who Lived as if he wanted to desperately understand why he had done what he had. Lucius would like to know that himself but he would have to be content with the fact that both he and his son were whole. He could take the boy back. He had vaguely planned for that from the moment he had walked into see the child being so cruelly tortured by a pair of worthless muggles. But now he couldn't take the chance. The boy was very powerful these muggles had somehow broken him enough that he couldn't understand he was just a child and could never be or do anything to deserve the _punishments_inflicted on him in muggle fear. If Lucius took him into his home and wards and the boy used his magic to lash out Lucius might not be able to protect himself and his wife and son. Still something must be done. Just not anything that would make the boy notice.

Turning to the muggles, the male lying barely breathing on the floor but still conscious, and the female staring at him quietly now with fear and hate in her eyes. So this was Lily Potter's sister. He could see the resemblance now but only barely. A lifetime of hate and fear had erased anything that might redeem this woman which simply proved the fact that muggle borns shouldn't be allowed to join the wizarding world, as this is what was created when they did. Quietly he whispered a spell, a dark one that would insure the muggles silence about his and his son's part in anything that had taken place this day. Lucius mourned that he couldn't erase the memories because the boy would notice but the risk was too great. If the boy thought him in the wrong more then he already did Lucius wasn't sure he could protect himself from his wrath. Potter was extraordinarily powerful, more so then Dumbledore and worse more so then the departed Dark Lord of whom there were quiet whispers in the darkness. But apparently Potter didn't see fit to use his magic to protect himself from unnatural beatings and Lucius knew that when the shock of everything had worn off the muggles would hurt him perhaps beyond all healing. Lucius would do something about that, a child that powerful could not be allowed to endure any more abuse, but first he had to take care of his son.

"I do hope this had taught you something, but I've always held that muggle couldn't be taught a think beyond obedience and fear." Lucius purposely made his tone cruel. "I really can't object to any thing you do when I am or my son aren't there to see but I assure you if I ever see a muggle hurting a wizard I won't hesitate on the whims of an abused child. I will kill you, as it would be far easier then simple torture if perhaps not as enjoyable."

Lucius walked to his stand by his son and was proud that Draco's face was composed and the horror in his eyes deeply hidden. His son would be affected by this, he knew, but a part of him was strangely pleased. He would never have to convince the boy to hate muggles ever again; even when the child grew up and formed his own opinions he would forever keep that hatred that fear a part of him. Perhaps he would let the boy keep that sensitive nature of his. It could prove useful in the future to manipulate and control.

Amazingly the muggle female spoke and Lucius was pleased that she brought up the very thing he had been about to address.

"What!" She said waspishly, her voice nearly non existent from her hysterics. "Aren't you, Freaks, going to take him back?"

Lucius sneered. "I hardly think it a good idea for me to taken in the boy who defeated my late master. I was his servant you know. Where do you think I learned such spells?" His let his eyes glitter with rage that with a glance to Potter he implied was the cause. "I see nothing in it for me to go gadding about singing of the way The Boy Who Lived lets himself be abused by such poor examples of muggles whom he has the misfortune of being related to." Lucius lied easily and watched as the woman slowly translated. No one be told. They were safe to continue on with their lives. Lucius just hoped they kept him mind his words. Potter was powerful and woe betide them if he ever changed his mind and thought to hate them.

He pulled out his wand, enjoying the paling expression on the female's face. Lucius was afraid that the Ministry was out of the question now. He had a feeling that his son wouldn't even notice. His arm went around Draco and with a pop they were gone. First he would see to his son. Then he had an appointment with a certain Headmaster of Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wouldn't Albus Dumbledore be surprised to find out that he wasn't the first to learn of it? And wouldn't he be enraged to find his hands tied when Malfoy black mailed him with quite a few secrets he was sure the old man wanted desperately to keep? Lucius had the strange urge to hum and his watch moved to hover between Plotting Manipulation And/Or Coercion and Time To Smile: Things Are Going Well.

October 25th Evening

Harry suddenly appeared in the middle of Hylaarr and Osset're's private chamber just a few paces from the bed. Gasping and trembling he fell the cold marble floor tears leaking out and sobs in his chest waling to be freed. He let them and silent sobs suddenly overtook the boy utter agony gripping him and holding him unable to move. For once he _hurt_ but the pain wasn't what made him cry.

His parents were dead. He had been the cause. Someone had killed them trying to get to him and he could never forgive himself for the hatred he had felt towards them and every harsh thought that had whispered in his mind. They had loved him. He had been loved once. He had been worthy of that love and now his world was torn upside down. Why the punishment? Why the beatings? Why had he been given to those who hated him so harshly? More, why did a part of him tremble at the fear of never being punished again? Was he insane? To want that? And he did. He knew that know. He had wanted the punishments, they had kept him sane, had grounded him. He had _needed_ them and still did. But he didn't deserve them. Not for the reasons he thought. Was there a reason? If there were what was it? If there weren't how could he ever function?

He was lost. The Dursleys knew of magic. They had been found out and they had been tortured by _magic_. How would they react when he went back. He trembled at the thought of their wrath. How could he possibly survive that? How could he ever give it up? His thoughts tumbled around in his head and he cried and mourned and shook. It had been so simple before. He had deserved those punishments before. He had deserved the pain. Now, when knew he didn't, how could he endure?

Suddenly a hand touched him, his hair, and Harry jumped and sat up to see Osset're in front of him. _Looking _at him. His face was so expressive and now twisted in concern and sympathetic pain. Harry could see subtle etchings of magic trailing down his skin, as only happened when Osset're was very emotional and suddenly it didn't concern him _how_ the elven vampire could see him. _How _he could touch him and more care about his pain enough to offer comfort. Harry just saw, Osset're, the vampire he had loved for forever and he launched himself into arms that closed about him and tightened to hold him close. Then he was crying and being _rocked_ and someone was behind him and holding him as well and both were whispering in elven that everything would be all right and they were there. And he cried until he had nothing left and until he couldn't stand this day anymore and he fell asleep, easing into the darkness where there were no dreams still feeling arms around him. And he wondered if this is what it was like to be loved.

**I am evil. I readily admit it. I had planned this big long scene where Harry's discovered and everyones shocked and Hylaarr suspicious while Osset's concerned. And then i realized that i couldn't fit it into this chapter. It was too long. The chapter would have been overwhelmed by the last scene into everything else paling in comparison. ( Fitful likes to think her writing's that good) Anyway Remus took a lot out of me, I had no plan for him beyond the John James Peter bit but suddenly he's a tad insane and the wolf and him are on friendly terms and he's being utterly despised by Harry through his own utter stupidity and pathetically weak need, and YES I am making excuses. I really don't have much will power and i figured if i wrote the scene that's been building up since day one i would have no reason to start the next chapter. I really haven't planned that far beyond vague ideas of a scene with the bitch finding out about dream harry. So I baled and pushed the next scene into chapter 6. I mean 5. No really it's in chapter 5. Don't kill me. I figured I'd throw you all a bone and write the beginning, which did fit into this chapter, but now I realize I'm being a frustrating tease. I feel guilty that I'm amused by that. **

**Anyway you all need something to keep you coming back for more. What would happen if you decided that the scene you all have been waiting for sucked and you were off to reread a classic or find a nice erotic one shot. This way you all are desperate to see what happens. I need the motivation of readers to keep writing. If I had just started writing this story, planning to post it when finished, I would still be in chapter two, or well Harry would. I would be reading fan fiction rather than attempting to add to the horrid obsession. Sigh. I almost wish I was. I could really use one of those erotic one shots right about now. **

**Playful Kisses**

**Fitful**


	5. Chapter 5

**So the name of the series is Harry Potter, right? And the name of my story is Saith, right? You all know this from SATs and online IQ quizzes right? If you don't let me make it clear. **

**SaithHarry **

**Yeah the only reason I didn't put go ahead and put Saith Kiinn as the title was I wanted to keep some secrets but now that thats out lets throw the cat out of the bag.**

**YES Harry is Saith. Hylaarr and Osset're are both his parents, and Osset're was the one who carried him, though only for a day, in a womb created by magic expressly for Harry/Saith. No, Harry is never going to magically turn in to a little copy of the vampire duo without **_**something**_**(magical) causing it. IE: An adoption ceremony (oops! Shhhhh) or Seren suddenly realizing that she was really wrong, confessing everything, and reversing her spells provided she can actually do that. She may have made them permanent. **

**Albus Dumbledore may or may not have the knowledge as either speculation or fact of the unconfirmed and unproven accusations that one Harry James Potter, as yet unconfirmed also the thought to be deceased Saith Kiinn, was maliciously with the intent to do bodily harm attacked repeatedly in the form of, also unconfirmed if true or false, punishments that were not, as yet not confirmed nor denied, actually deserved. **

**Ford Prefect (also called Ix) is a fiction character in **_**The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy **_**by the British author Douglas Adams. He claimed to be from Guildford in Surrey, but in actuality he was from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelguese: Thus F.P. Betelguese Elementary School. That all belongs to Douglas Adams don't cha ya know. **

**All right Darlings. Here you go. Hylaarr and Osset're slashyness in the second scene. If you don't like it DON'T read it. K? Good. **

**Still NEED A BETA. **

October 25th Morning

The forest was alive with the life that laughed and whispered and ran about in abandon through the falling leaves. The cool wind whispered and the trees laughed in delight as the pale sun blinked down and fell through the branches to gently kiss the ground. Kiinn stood in the shadowed embrace of a tree and simply breathed as he listened to the calm that surrounded him.

It wasn't like winter, with the cold and the quiet and the feeling of a soft sleep, nor like the summer with the warmth and the loudness that life indulged in to celebrate the end of spring. Autumn was unique and by far the most expressive time of each year. It was when the creatures who had indulged all summer finally wound down and began to watch the beauty of life rather then inhale it. It was when the world finally sat and listened to the dying chatter of the day and felt the sun begin to sink below the horizon and just absorbed the color that began to streak across the sky. It was the dying of the day, when shadows began to creep and the coolness of the coming night whispered to everyone that they should find shelter and take heed as soon everything would sleep but laughed as they lingered until the last ray of light disappeared.

Kiinn smiled, his eyes watching everything, and simply breathed. The smells were the best part of the forest and for a vampire they were exquisite. The stillness he had maintained since arriving was addictive. To move, to let his presence be known, to end the peace and calm was abhorrent. Osset're wouldn't understand. He was always in movement, dancing like lucent fire, drifting silently like smoke, whispering and laughing in abandon like rain. The vampire mage was beautiful and loving and was loved by everyone who met him, most especially by his mate; but sometimes being around him was like being in the middle of an overly animated crowd or sitting next to a fire in the height of summer or eating ice cream on midwinter's eve. Sometimes you longed for quiet or coolness or heat despite your love of noise and fire and ice.

Kiinn had left his mate overseeing the reconstruction of The Golden Suite, their own private chambers in the castle that was called Crescent. The vampire mage was in his element, ordering Younglings about and waving his hands here and there, magic spilling to hover in the air and emphasize his directions. Kiinn had left a small army of young nubile vampires scrambling to obey the Consort and knew that they knew they were there for more then helping hands. They were there to protect their Lord's Consort in his absence. He had whispered in Osset're's ear that he was going hunting and slipped out silently, assured that they would give their life should the unlikely occur and an attack come so quickly after the utter defeat of the previous one. Kiinn looked forward to returning to a clean chamber at the very least, though he knew his mate couldn't resist the excuse to use magic and the chambers would be unrecognizable by noon. They had been attacked again early that morning; The Hawthorn clan, led by the Elder vampire Lady Lenore, had once again tried to assassinate the Lord and Consort of the clan Crescent.

This was a normal past time for vampires. Clans grew and died and then sprang up again, each claiming territory that they eventually were forced to fight for to keep. Often killing the Lord and Consort was the only way to insure that neither clan was decimated in war and usually the clan who succeeded absorbed the one of the fallen Lord without much fuss or fight increasing the size and territory and making it that much stronger. Indeed, Hylaarr had started Crescent that way, years ago, when he was a young man whose strange ways and powerful Will caused others to view him a threat.

Kiinn had spent ten years in books, learning everything he could of vampires and magic and times past, and when he had emerged and refused to follow the rules vampires had for centuries they had begun to target him. The many clans scattered about Europe had been threatened by the new beliefs that he lived by, The Ancient Ways that governed his thoughts, actions, and soon drew the Younger vampires to him in fascination. When the young Hylaarr Somus Kiinn, with his ancient studies directing his path and his werewolf fathers snarling at anyone who stood in his way, started to gather a small court about him the many clans panicked. Kiinn was forced to defend himself and the few who had expressed interest in the Ancient Ways he followed and become friends, his _clan_ small as it was, and finally he realized what he had unknowingly been doing and what he would have to do to survive. When Rhory Silvereyes, the alpha of the growing pack Moondark sat him down he had snarled and hissed and fought as if someone had slapped a collar and leash on his neck and chained him tightly to the ground.

"Quiet!" Rhory had snapped at him. "Now your a smart boy, youngling, but you need to open those god touched eyes of yours!" The smiling silver eyes twinkled at him though the look on the werewolf's face was for once quiet serious.

"Your little pack of vampires is following _you_ not just those ancient ways you spout off about. They look to you for protection and guidance and I'll bite your silly head off before I see a son of mine shirk his duty to his pack." Kiinn had huffed at that and dropped his father's gaze, a sign to both of them that he was open to listening, to _submitting_ to the obviously more Dominant alpha, just as he had since he was a snarling spitting vampire of 13 who had fought and cursed and bit until the young werewolf had bit _him_ and _forced_ him to submit and let him take him off the streets and home with him.

"Son, your pack is a good one, those younglings you've got have good heads and sharp teeth, but they _will _die if a clan larger than the last one attacks. Don't let make them pay that for their loyalty. Don't ask that of them. Quite a few of them have faced death once and won't be happy to have to do it again."

His father's words had shamed him. He had been forced to look at himself and realize that he would never be happy in another's clan, trying to patiently coax the Lord of it to consider that his ideas might be right despite how different they seemed. He had been forced to admit what he had known for years. That he wanted his own clan, one that _wanted_ to walk down the path that he did and wanted to change the very idea of vampires that everyone had always thought eternal.

He had gone home that night and had quietly gathered his friends, his pack, his clan, and they had planned and plotted for what seemed like months. Finally he had attacked the Blackblood clan and killed the Lord, one Aries Black, and the clan had submitted to his rule and the clan had been no more. It was weeks before the new members could even consider the new path as something they might want to try. It was months before they started reading his research and questioning all they had been taught. It was full two seasons before one even tried. But they did, and inside a year nearly all had. Some couldn't shake the centuries of doing things another way and after exactly a year they were let loose but on the whole it had been a victory. With that victory others came by the dozens, eager to try out this new ancient path. Two years after the first attack they were strong enough to do it again. Inside five years the clan had grown beyond all recognition despite the frantic attempts of the other clans to stop it.

The Bloodlands had been born, and the clan Crescent had been able to for the first time claim territory. That led to much death as the now official Lord of Crescent decided a new way of doing things. The next attack against him and his own was met with annihilation. Every vampire, male and female; all Young ones that had yet to reach half a century were killed. After that the attacks lessoned and each new one was well thought out and slyly planned. Inside of ten years the Bloodlands engulfed the lands the mortals called The United Kingdom.

Now, nearly ninety years later, half of Europe and a good part of Africa was under the rule of Hylaarr Silvereyes Moonrun Somus Kiinn. The Crescent clan had been forced to build a council nearly fifty years ago and each member was appointed to establish a holding in the area of their choosing. Mortals were none the wiser even the magic ones. Oh a few knew; some had ties to a few of the Embraced that lasted through the death of their humanity and some had formed relationships with various vampires as was the normal path of life. The Ancient Ways insured that once aware of the path they followed most mortals were more at ease and often became part of the clan themselves though it was rare they remained human once age began to show.

Now Kiinn was mated, not just mated but wrapped up in a lifebond so strong that the death of either of them was unacceptable. They had been together for the past 60 years and Kiinn was still so wound up in his mate that he couldn't bear to be parted from him for longer then a few hours. Part of that was the Dominant in him. The part that _needed_ his mate to keep him grounded, to keep him sane. It was the aspect of being Dominant and Submissive that really was what the Ancient Ways were about. That path that Kiinn had chosen to walk so long ago, that had transformed the vampire race from a brutal almost barbaric species to what they were today, and it was what had given him Osset're. If for that alone he would have pledged his life to walk them.

Kiinn breathed deeply one last time. That was enough dwelling on history. There were a thousand duties to see to that day. Osset're had been left alone for far too long for Kiinn's comfort and he needed to coordinate an attack on the Hawthorne clan. It was time Lenore stopped living in the past, or at least let those who didn't live in peace.

Kiinn moved and slipped away from beside the tree that had sheltered him. The shadows were moving and the forest was quieter now, not because his presence had been noted, he was far too careful to make such a Youngling's mistake, but because the day had continued as Kiinn had reminisced and now the hustle of the morning was winding down. Soon it would be midday and Kiinn had an elven mate to fetch and drag off to meet with the newest members, refugees of the clan Whitetooth that had been utterly decimated in a war between rival werewolf packs. But first he needed to feed; the deer he had indulged in hadn't been enough after this morning's battle. And further more Osset're was always a tempting meal, even without the rather pleasurable advantage of being mated to him.

October 25th Late Morning

Osset're was rather horrified by the sheer amount of blood that had sunk into the Turkish divan he had had imported just a few weeks past. That the divan stubbornly refused to let his magic work on it was another source of ill content and the reason that Osset're was intently throwing destructive magic at the thing in rather heated ire. The vampires working on the renovations kept a healthy distance between the Consort and themselves and ducked a lot when a flare of magic bounced off the divan and shot off in a random direction. Osset're muttered in elven and hissed at the horrid thing and he could feel his fingers twitching with the need to simply destroy it. The only reason that he hesitated was because it had taken weeks to come by and he had traded a rather valuable favor to the weaver who had at first refused to make it.

"Stupid vampire prejudice. Even after all this time!" He muttered in elven and shot a rather nasty bit of magic at the stupid divan. "The horrid little goblin must have spelled it!" Osset're sneered at the offending beautiful seat. "Nasty earth magic."

He noticed the looks the vampires were giving him but couldn't be _arsed_ to care. He gave up and thew a rather showy mage bolt at the divan. That one shot off and veered for the ceiling, exploding with a rather loud boom and showering down the hand painted Siren tiles that had made up the now smoking far corner. Arsed. That was a good word. A better one would be fu-

"Osset're." The vampire mage froze. "What are you doing?" Hylaarr's voice was mild but Osset're knew better. Hylaarr was only mild when he was about to chew him out for something. Or worse simply punish him without ever telling him what he had done. The Submissive part of him wavered between purring in pleasure at the thought and being worried that he had displeased his Dominant in an irreversible way.

Whirling he turned to face Hylaarr, the most put out expression he could manage on his face, and lifted his chin arrogantly. "Attempting to put this horrid thing out of my misery!" He announced this as if it were obvious and sneered as he threw an offended glare at the divan. Osset're was all bravado and knew it showed but if he could manage to convince his mate that he was in a bad enough mood to need the Dominant's steadying hand perhaps he could wiggle his way out of a punishment.

"Hylaarr's left eyebrow lifted. "Are you?" His face was impassive but his eyes were ever so slightly amused. Osset're breath a small sigh of relief. If Hylaarr were truly angry he would have never let that small bit of amusement show.

"Yes." Osset're growled and, feeling secure enough in his mate's good humor, turned back to the stubborn goblin made piece of shi-

"Perhaps," said a voice suddenly on his right, "It is you who is the source of its misery." Osset nearly melted when he felt his mate suddenly appear behind him and the darker vampire's teasing voice murmur in his ear.

"I hardly think I could be the source of _anyone's_ misery, Hylaarr Kiinn!" Osset said sharply but his now relaxed frame had leaned back into Hylaarr's and betrayed the fact that he wasn't irritated in the least with his mate's teasing.

"Hmm. You are often the source of mine." Osset's eyes grew wide at that, and the little push Hylaarr gave with his hips. Oh. He sighed as his mate began to place barely felt kisses along his neck, climbing until he nipped at Osset's jawline. His eyes closed in pleasure. He really ought to be offended by the last remark. He knew Hylaarr wasn't just referring to his rather, aya, excited state. His mate was often spouting off about how much of a pain Osset're was when he was being to loud or to quiet or to animate or to fast or to well anything that was hyperbole for other people but normal for Osset're. But then the teeth climbing back down his neck bit hard enough to draw blood but didn't sink deeply making Osset're quiet aware that feeding wasn't what his mate had in mind just about now. He forgot what he'd been thinking and tilted his head, the right side of his neck bent and bared in submissive offering, as was proper, and gave up complete control, his body relaxing to let his mate take his weight.

Yes this had been what he had needed. Osset're hadn't realized it before but he'd knowingly been being destructive because he had been unconsciously expecting his mate back any moment. Such a shame he hadn't been aware of his rather devious manipulating until after he had gotten what he wanted. If there was anything Osset're loved it was gloating about getting the better of someone, preferably Hylaarr.

"Out." Hylaarr mumbled this into his neck but the other vampires heard, most likely had been waiting for it. Their Lord and Consort had a rather infamous reputation for being overly excessive in their pleasures. Quickly and quietly they left and Hylaarr took advantage of this to pull his shirt up and let his hand trail an invisible path across Osset're's stomach.

He couldn't help but purr.

Ever since he had become a vampire he had loved to have Hylaarr touch his stomach. Hylaarr's fingers whispered across his skin. Teasing and laughing and trailing fire. He love Hylaarr's hands. The long white fingers, the crescent of each nail, the little plays of hair that were so fine they were just softness. He couldn't help the sigh as they danced and hovered and touched back down again. Hylaarr's tongue was tasting his neck, just behind his ear, and he trembled and let himself.

Chuckling, barely a breath of a noise, his mate pulled away from him and turned him around.

Hylaarr's eyes were bright and intent and glittered with sparks of heat. Osset're sighed. He could melt from looking into his eyes. One was black, the color of ink and night and obsidian, and one was silver, a like moonlight, and dust, and what you saw when you looked out of the corner of you eye. He met those eyes with his own and watched as they darkened. What had they been talking about? Oh yes. Osset're's eyes narrowed.

"The only reason I am a source of your misery is because you lack control." Osset're said it in a carefully calculated tone. It was a challenge and he watched as those eyes glittered again.

"As you say." Said Hylaarr.

And then he lowered his head, not to kiss him but to press lips to his neck once again just where the hollow was. A hand had slipped around and wound itself in his hair and he gasped at the sharp pull, feeling it trail down his entire body like light, and let his head be pulled back. Soft lips mouthed words and kisses and gently began a downward path.

When had his shirt come off? If Hylaarr had left it on the floor...

A sharp nip and hot breath. He was trembling. Hylaarr nips and sucks and kisses, and everything was softness and heat and wet. And fire. Trailing down, back to his stomach. Osset're shifted but was again held fast by the grip on his hair.

"Hylaarr." He was needing his mate now. Hylaarr rubbed his face against his stomach, then pulled away and breathed, and then his tongue licking and trails of cold heat skittered up and down his spine. Osset're felt the gasp that had no sound being pulled from him. His mate was such a tease, the bas-

"Be silent, Osset're." An order and he wanted to sob at it. That was always so hard. And so good. And it meant Hylaarr would finish this with a kiss that fed them both and left him ready and wanting again.

And he wanted.

His mate. Hylaarr. There was no one else. He wanted and needed. And Hylaarr kissed that place, where the skin met his stomach and started down to meet his thigh and was so sensitive. And then he bit softly and Osset're was nearly lost.

He knew he was gasping, would be _whining_, if not for the order to be silent. He wanted to moan, and plead, and say Hylaarr over and over again. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from doing so.

It wasn't fair!

Hylaarr's tongue dipped to taste his belly button.

Hylaarr knew if he forbid him something it would make him want it all the more.

Hylaarr sucked and Osset're bit through his lip.

What would he do if Hylaarr ever forbid him to touch him?

Hylaarr hummed and laughed and Osset're's world went white, and he trembled, and his mate was kissing him and possessively biting the lip he had bitten through and then was biting his tongue and Osset're was lost again.

Actually he had forbid Osset're to touch him, long ago, when they had first met. Osset're nearly hummed with delight at the memory. Hylaarr had been horrified at the child that was convinced he was in love with him. He wanted to pout but still couldn't move just yet. Hylaarr was holding him and everything was soft. Hmm. Afterglow was always best with a vampire lover. Perhaps his mate had been justified. Osset're had only been 36. That was barely the equivalent of 13 to humans, and he hadn't looked much older than that back then either. Osset're opened his eyes and yawned, just an opening and closing of his mouth. His lip had long since healed, as was a perk of being vampire. It had taken a lot to bring him around but, of course, he finally did. He wanted to gloat but there was no point to it now. Hylaarr had won the challenge. Osset're sighed. He hoped he didn't bring it up. But of course he would the pra-

"Better?" Hylaarr's voice was slightly concerned and Osset're realized his mate had known all along what he had been doing. His Submissive had needed him and he had taken care of it. Dominants! So- so-

Suddenly he had something to say. "Do you always have to interrupt me when I'm about to curse?" He felt himself scowl when his mate just laughed. "You always do it! I've been trying to get used to English curse words. Hylaarr Kiinn _stop_ laughing at me!"

Hylaarr did stop laughing but pulled away from him and tugged him towards the door. Osset're stopped and just glared before sneering at his mate and using his magic to quickly straighten himself out. He thought about dragging it out and making Hylaarr wait. It would serve him right!

"Come, Osset're. We have things to do." Hylaarr was insistent and Osset're wanted to snarl at him. Then he caught his eyes and the light in them and knew what was coming.

"Do you think I can control myself until we retire tonight?"

He groaned. He should have known better. No one could gloat more than Hylaarr Kiinn.

October 25th Early Afternoon

Remus Lupin's world had utterly collapsed six years ago. The mission Dumbledore had sent him on had been a dangerous one. He was to appear to abandon the wizarding world and somehow infiltrate Fenrir Greyback's pack. Fenrir was to werewolves what Voldemort was to wizards. He fancied himself the ultimate alpha and had built up his pack accordingly, with himself as its center. The pack revolved around him, awake when he was, eager to please and like most of the canine species if you kicked it the pitiful whimpering thing kept coming back for more. Remus had successfully fit himself among the many Dominant weres who had seen the necessity of submitting, despite their instincts to the contrary, in order to survive. An alpha who would tear a child apart limb from limb on a whim was not one you wanted to Challenge despite how desperately you howled inside to do so.

Remus had denied himself his werewolf instincts all his life, as most wizards who were bitten did. The magic that was essential to creating a wizard was what fought so furiously with the wolf, seeing the intruding mind as a threat and literally tearing the body apart in a fight to keep control. That magic didn't think, it only _was_, with primal instincts far below what quite a few animals had evolved from. The fact that a symbiotic relationship could be achieved, as was what had been the original purpose of the creation of the werewolf by the gods or so thought the many clans that followed the old stories passed down for generations, was never even considered. Instead the magic tore the bitten werewolf apart, and because the wolf's mind was also inside the wizard's so was the mind caught in a furious battle that ended far sooner then nature intended. It was always a toss up to see weather the bitten wizard went insane or died first; and the visual evidence of the fight between wolf and magic was often why wizards only thought of the latter as likely and some never even considered the former. This all made the naturally Dominant werewolf able to slink into the pack virtually unnoticed, as though he were truly submissive to Fenrir, and spy on the alpha whose alliance with the Dark Lord Voldemort had given the light side quite a chilling set back.

The Order of the Phoenix, whose members were the most opposition that Voldemort received as the Ministry was too caught up in trying to prevent the war that had already started, had begun fearing for the lives of their children and loved ones. Fenrir had bitten and turned at least one successfully, at Voldemort's request, and another three had died of the wounds he had inflicted. Of those three two had been children younger then ten. Dozens of other wizards, members of the order and families included, had been attacked and forced to defend themselves against werewolves that were hard to harm, nearly immune to their spells, and madly fanatical about achieving their goal. That Dumbledore had successfully gotten a spy in their midst was a much needed blessing as the information that Remus provided was crucial in the successful defense of many a life including the headmaster and once even their other spy, Severus Snape, who had been discovered by a member of Fenrir's pack and had been warned in time enough to kill her before she could tell anyone of the traitor to the dark.

But it was a dark time and when that very spy that had been saved by Remus's hard won information brought news that the self proclaimed dark lord had a spy of his own, this one a member of the order of the phoenix, well naturally if against their will suspicion was cast in the direction of the dark creature who had been thick as thieves with the allies of that said dark lord for months now. That this spy was close to the Potters, whom the dark lord desperately wanted dead, was also a source of concern and even more suspicion was cast on the him in fear that everything they had worked for would be destroyed if the protection surrounding them was breached. That his own mate, and a lifebonded one at that, acted as if he weren't certain of his innocence was enough to cause his already battle weary mind to falter a bit even if not for the events that followed. Finally, after the tension had become so stifling that even James' slow temper was riled enough to have him blow up slice of bread he was attempting to toast Dumbledore had taken him Remus aside, a day before Halloween, and asked him to return to Fenrir.

"The agony of waiting for battle is what every man both dreads and yearns for, Remus." His blue eyes, tired and heart sore, had watched him intently and a part of Remus had trembled at what he saw there.

Suspicion. He wasn't trusted. _Dumbledore_ didn't trust him. That was enough to make him want to slit his own throat right there if it weren't for the fact that he was innocent. Oh he was sure the old man merely thought the werewolves had corrupted him or some such thing but it was still enough to make him despair. His own mate didn't trust him, Dumbledore didn't. How could James? How could Peter? What must Lily think of him? Remus was falling apart. His pack was turning against him, as if he were a sick infected dog. Soon they would be forced to put him down and he knew, despite how Dominant he may have been had he accepted the wolf, he would never raise a hand to defend himself.

"My boy, all hope is not lost. Voldemort couldn't break the spells we've placed even if someone who knew where it was were to tell him." That was a threat. Even if you are the traitor, the spy, you gave up the light in vain. A small part of Remus snarled and wanted to rip the man's face into shreds. But it was too much to stay. He couldn't face the hatred he felt coming from anyone a moment longer.

Remus left that night and went back to Fenrir. Three days later his world was over. Fenrir was scrambling to get himself and his pack out of England. Voldemort had been defeated and now nothing would stop the wizards from hunting them down and killing them one by one like rabid dogs. Even if they took them down more would come. They would be routed by sheer number. And so Remus had slipped out in the confusion and fled to Dumbledore.

"Remus, my boy." The torch light reflected in his eyes and made them glitter. "You've come back."

Remus wanted to fidget. The Headmaster had made it sound as if he had left mid-battle and fled in fear. He could feel guilt clawing at his throat. "Yes, Albus." He had trouble swallowing. "What has happened?"

"Harry Potter has defeated Voldemort." Remus' breath caught in his throat. "James and Lily are dead." No. Dumbledore's eyes were grave and Remus could see the sorrow in them. "As well as young, Peter. It seems as if their Secret Keeper, betrayed them." He was apologetic when he said that as if it could make up for what he had believed before and what he believed now.

And it was then when Remus' world collapsed. Sirius, his mate, his _lifebonded_ had betrayed the pack. No. That wasn't possible. No. It couldn't be true. A part of Remus' mind broke and his heart broke as well.

Dumbledore had continued to explain. Harry had been placed with muggle relatives. That wasn't right. Harry, his pup, his child; the very last of Remus's pack should be with him. And hadn't Lily always shut down when the subject of her family came up. He could have sworn that she had once said they were estranged for a reason she didn't want to go into. That wasn't right. Harry didn't belong with them. Harry was his.

"It's for the best, my boy." Dumbledore's word was final. Remus had left and forgotten how very final Dumbledore could be a times. He had gone to the Ministry and demanded custody of Harry but was brushed off by a pureblood who laughed at him. "A filthy half-blood without enough money to buy descent robes raise The Boy Who Lived?"

A few days later Sirius had been sent to Azkaban without trial, proclaimed guilty by none other then Albus Dumbledore who was quoted in the Daily Prophet. "Sirius Black was indeed made the Potter's Secret Keeper at James' request. I oversaw the setting of the spell myself. It pains me to say that I made an enormous error in judgment that cost three very dear friends of mine their lives. I will never ask for forgiveness but I hope that the decision I've made to place their son with his only living relatives will begin to make up for it." Remus had snarled at the paper he stood reading in the middle of Diagon Alley and apperated to Hogwarts.

Finding Dumbledore in his office he had raged and snarled and growled at him. He had blamed him for getting Sirius put in Azkaban, yelling that it was his words that had been the reason there was no trial. He had snarled that Harry was his and he would find him and Albus would never see either of them again. That was when the Headmaster had stopped him. He had gently persuaded him to accompany him to St. Mungos, that he was sick, and that Harry was better off where he was. He had escorted him there and given him over to a doctor, quietly confiding in him that Remus was a werewolf, and the late James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had been with him since his school days and that Sirius Black had been his lover.

The burly doctor had poured potions down his throat and bound him with spells so he couldn't move. 'To insure you don't do yourself harm.' The potions calmed him, except the small part that was always enraged, and he drifted. When he awoke his mind was bound up in spells and doctors were wanting him to talk; saying he was sick and they could help him. He wasn't allowed to be without supervision and the full moon was dealt with by a potion that he had never heard of, that locked the wolf away, and kept things silent and quiet in his head. Except they didn't know that their spells had failed. The wolf wasn't chained down, the spells that bound his mind _didn't bind the wolf's_, and the wolf's whispers kept him from going insane. He had spent a year there before they were convinced he was well enough to let go, but the spells were never removed. Had anyone ever asked him he would have said that it was the worst year of his life.

Remus Lupin sat watching the street that led to number 4 Privet Drive. He had been here for the last six hours, initially pleading an ill stomach before racing to see how the Dursleys were acting towards their charge. They had driven off with a squeal of tires before he could catch more than a glimpse of Harry's uncle's enraged face. He had feared the worse. He had found a bell tower in a near by church, a week ago, and had taken up residence quite a lot there recently. Spells insured he could watch everything that went on outside the house walls with out any of the magical protections detecting him. He knew the Dursleys never went home and had waited quietly until they did.

Around a quarter to seven the car pulled up and a rather pale Vernon ushered his wife and son into the house. Harry wasn't with them. What had happened? Had they hurt him too badly and left him somewhere to die? What if those still loyal to Voldemort had found him outside the protection of number 4 Privet Drive? What if they had him even now? Trembling he waited. It wasn't until dark that the lumbering form of Vernon Dursley crept out and pulled something from the trunk of the car, something boy size but limp with unconsciousness. The wolf howled and raged. He whispered that they would pay. Come the next full moon they would pay. Remus knew that wouldn't happen. He always locked them in on the nights of the full moon. If he hadn't the wolf would have headed straight for Privet Drive and the bindings would have killed them.

Remus' eyes narrowed. But if Harry wasn't better, if he didn't show up in school, perhaps he would forget to lock them in this month. He was close. His research was nearly there, he could practically smell it. Soon. The wolf whispered in glee. Soon there would be blood spit on Privet Drive. And for once it wouldn't be Harry's.

October 25th Evening

Kiinn was woken out of a sound sleep by the whoosh of displaced air and a soft pop. Someone had just _drifted _into the room.He held himself very still and listened intently but didn't have to wait for long. Grief suddenly poured into the room in waves, pain and grief and despair and longing and hate all permeating the air and causing him to suck in a breath in horror at the destructiveness of it. He tensed and felt Osset're who had awoken just after him do the same. Every muscle in his body screamed they were about to be attacked and this time the attack would be personal. But before he could move a gasp tore the silence of the room and Kiinn heard the dull thud as the intruder hit the ground. Tears, little gasping breaths, and sobs broke through the smell of pain and Kiinn couldn't be still any longer. Neither apparently could Osset're who had moved a second before him to crouch on the bed and stare in shock at the intruder before them. Kiinn moved, his eyes tracking to the trembling form sobbing out his agony into the cold marble.

It was a boy. A child, and quite a young one as well. Powerful magic rose off him in snarling grief stricken waves and filled the room as would a pack fan out to protect their weakest members should they ever enter a strange territory. He smelled of pain, not just emotional, though that was very strong, but of physical pain, and dark magic lingering so heavily it smelled like hate. His mate wasn't able to handle the rawness of the emotion that battered at the senses and clawed at the heart. He made to move and Kiinn's hand shot out to grasp his arm tightly. Osset're wasn't thinking, couldn't think through the onslaught of grief and horror that rose off the boy, but Kiinn knew that something like this couldn't just _happen_. There had to be a reason that the boy was able to bypass all wards and protective magics that surrounded the Lord and Consort of Crescent.

No matter how powerful he was, a child couldn't have done that and so logical reason demanded that he had been sent here by magic. Either the boy had been attacked and somehow ended up here because of a powerful misdirected spell or someone had _sent _him here and there was only one reason to do that. To get to himself and his mate, perhaps distract them with the boy and then attack as the very least. At the most, someone had trained the boy very well. A child as powerful as this one would be an inventive weapon against one's enemies. Kiinn moved, muscles stiff and nearly trembling with tension, and slid off the bed and down to the floor where he crouched watching the boy. His Will had 'called' a blade to his right hand, an elven one, made to magically incapacitate an enemy until they could be dealt with. He heard Osset're's sharp intake of breath and held up his free hand to ward off any protest. Cautiously he looked around, peering into the shadows in suspicion. None moved, not a hint nor a sound besides the silent sobs and breathing of the boy reached his ear and Kiinn turned his gaze back to the child who cried so silently so brokenly, and mourned what he would have to do.

The child was a threat, perhaps a deadly one, and to leave him alive, within Crescent's wards was practically begging his enemy to kill him and his mate. He was a threat to Kiinn, Osset're, the clan, and the Bloodlands. Kiinn mourned but his resolve was hardening. The child must die, after insuring that that death wouldn't bring about any harm to him and his own, release a spell created to strike upon his death perhaps. He hated himself in that moment, when the decision was made, and hated what he had become, but more he hated the one who had put the child in this position. They must have know that it would never live. Kiinn narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and made a motion to Osset're. He heard the defiant hesitation in his mate's silence but the magic obediently poured from the mage and engulfed the boy. Suddenly the boy's magic was contained and shunted off , only the smell of it lingering.

The boy didn't notice which Kiinn found either suspicious or relieving. If he had then Kiinn would have know that he'd been trained and thus was an immediate threat, but also was the option that he had noticed and was so well trained that he didn't let on he had and thus was an even greater threat. If he hadn't then the boy was either innocent and could be tended to and questioned and there was no threat, or he could very well have been used, either trained and had his memories erased or sent unwilling to carry out whatever magic was spelled into him. So many thoughts and ideas ran through Kiinn that he couldn't make a decision and in his hesitation Osset're made one for him.

Sliding off the bed he crouched a bit away from Kiinn and crept towards the boy slowly, magic ready in appreciation of the potential threat but clearly a second concern. Finally he stopped just a breath away and watched the child who shook with the force of his sobs and gasped to hold in the sounds. Kiinn's heart felt stretched as he took in that. Both fear for himself and his mate warring with the common sense and sympathy that said that this boy knew suffering. His very silence even in the storm of grief spoke of many years of tears unheeded and practice at hiding them. Osset're looked at him, ever so slightly accusing. His eyes demanded that Kiinn acknowledge the suffering before them and relax his suspicions for once in their life. Kiinn sighed silently. It was rare his Submissive mate challenged him but when he did it never failed to make Kiinn thirteen again and feeling guilty for the defiance he had spouted off at his more Dominant fathers.

He contemplated the child. It looked to be about five or six, although small and huddled in on itself as it was could make it appear younger. It was mourning that was obvious so something horrific must have happened to it. The magic that had hovered about it so cloyingly had been utterly contained by Osset're and he knew that any magic spelled into the child would be contained as well. That only left the child his own abilities to attack them with. Even if he had been trained non stop for his entire life there wasn't even a possibility that he could kill them, Kiinn alone had been trained in warfare and weapons craft since he was thirteen by werewolves and then vampires not to mention the few other things he had picked up along the way.

Osset're wasn't half bad, despite the fact that of the last sixty years he had spent under Kiinn's hand in weapons craft little showed as the mage was by far uninterested in the art and put little effort into his studies. Even still he was able to hold his own, and his magic was the equal to a small army of vampires if a bit misguided in its thinking that it had to please Osset're rather then just keep him alive. Perhaps, if they were careful, it would be worth seeing how this child had come to be here. And once he was assured that he wasn't an immediate threat he could find Seren. The vampire seer would be able to See if any harm would come of him being there.

Kiinn moved closer to the child, still in his tense crouch, and watched him tremble and sob once sounding sounding as if he were falling apart and knew there would be no one who would help hold him together. Sighing he let himself nod to Osset're who immediately let magic spill from his fingers to fall gently onto and sink into the boy. The boy was nearly motionless now, except for his head which he shaking in what seemed to be shaking in denial, and didn't notice the magic. A bit later it began to coalesce on his skin then rose to hover in an odd mist above him. Kiinn knew that his mate could read the mist like it were a hand written book, but watched at it formed into written elven, always a debate weather that was readable or not but the best Osset could do. Kiinn read the statistics and his heart grew heavy.

The boy had been tortured recently, by magic that had been expressly created for doing so, and though he hadn't been held under it for long his mind and body were in incredible shock because of it. Hence the destructive grief that still hovered in the air. If something had happened to this child's loved ones that could explain everything, even his appearance here. It didn't explain the further readings of neglect, starvation, and abuse that showed up though. It was the starvation that had him trembling in rage. For a vampire feeding was as important as breathing. It was life and magic and wholeness of being. To starve a child is the worst crime you could commit in Hylaarr's mind. If the child had been cared for by loving guardians he'd eat his blade. The next reading stopped him cold.

The boy was was seven years old.

Kiinn felt his mouth open a bit in shocked pain, even as Osset're trembled upon reading that. The anniversary of the death of their child, their son, was in a few days. Osset're was moody and on edge because of it but Kiinn knew that he also wasn't doing as well as he pretended. And this child was the same age as theirs would have been had he lived. Caution screamed at him to consider, however carefully that knowledge was kept within the council, it had somehow gotten to one of the rival clan lords who had decided to use this boy to further weaken him and his mate. For once Kiinn didn't listen as closely as he usually did and he leaned to study the boy closer. The child was obviously mortal and human, Kiinn knew this and the readings that Osset're took confirmed it. But he had magic, wizarding magic, Kiinn couldn't help but sneer a bit, and that made all the difference. It was the magic that made all his theories possible and gave no clue as to which one was correct.

He was small, fretfully so, and his dark hair, blacker then his own, was a wild mess. The clothes he wore were obviously new and that made Kiinn wonder what he had been wearing before. Again Kiinn sighed. Perhaps this child would be their downfall but right now he was a child in need, hurt and hurting and without a friend in the world. And as hard as he had become he couldn't ignore that. The little voice that whispered perhaps he was just giving into the weakness he had considered his enemies wanted to exploit was easier to ignore.

With that decision he looked up to meet Osset're's eyes. His mate had obviously going through, if not the same, a similar argument with himself and had lost quiet badly to the side of caution. It was clear that Osset're was lost. He gazed at the boy with such yearning that Kiinn's breath caught, and little blue tears of magic had etched themselves into his skin, a clear sign that Osset're was in as much pain as the boy was if only in sympathy. When his mate met his eyes he could see the begging words the the Submissive wouldn't speak. Not because he had a problem challenging his more dominant mate but because he was terrified of being refused. 'Please,' those eyes said. 'He needs me,' those eyes said. Let me love him. Let me keep him. And Kiinn's heart plead the same in a whisper. And making a decision he nodded his head.

October 25th Evening.

Seren knew her eyes were white. The irises, pupils, and even whites had been covered in a smoky white cloud that sparked randomly with shockingly bright bits of color. This always happened when she was having a vision, and it was quiet disconcerting to those who hadn't seen it before and even those who had. She liked the effect it had on them. It made them uncomfortably aware of how powerful she was. It made them twitch and catch every word they said lest they offend her. It made them submissive before her, even the Dominants. It made them fear her. Long ago she had been a child. Then she had hated the visions, hated how people reacted when they knew of them. She had hated their fear. But that was quite a while past and now she was a vampire, sister to the Lord of the most powerful clan in this realm. None dared give in to their fear for a the greater fear of retribution. Even more, though they feared her and the visions she had, the knowledge that was unnatural for one person alone to bear, she was trusted. She was one of the Three; those who were the absolute ruling power in the clan. Everything she did was for the clan, and that knowledge led them to forgive her nearly anything.

Seren had been eleven when she had been taken. A man in the shadows had attacked her and she had fallen limp in his embrace as he proceeded to sink unnatural fangs into her and drain her of her life. She hadn't struggled and soon she had felt death come sniffing around her skirts and salivating at the thought of taking her. But a shout had rang out and suddenly the man had disappeared and a woman had stopped her from hitting the ground. Then she had tasted blood for the first time and that first taste had never left her tongue. The woman had bled and fed it to her and thus became her Sire, and the woman had taken her home with her. Just as Seren had planned.

A vision a few weeks before had warned her of the attack, and the Knowing had told her of vampires and magic and given her a glimpse of a world she had never thought existed. And she had longed for this world. Where those who were powerful were feared and those who were Dominant were strong. She had been sick of living as a hated, feared mortal and had taken advantage of the vision to insure she was liberated of her humanity. She had never once looked back to see the death of that human child lying in the stench and blood of the alley. And when the woman had taken her with her she had nearly purred in pleasure at the thought of what the woman would become to her.

The woman had been Korren. She had taken Seren with her to her home and proceeded to through her in with the staff. And so a newly turned vampire Seren had been turned into a kitchen maid. It had been helpful at first. Everyone on staff was either vampire, or a feeder, a mortal whose sole purpose was to keep the lady and her servants in fresh blood. Korren didn't like hunting. She was a much more interested in society and having to interrupt the nights she devoted to festivities wore wasn't appealing. And so she had shunned the natural vampire way of life for the easier way of luring mortals into her clutches and never letting them go. She had created a name for herself and then used it over and over again, traveling often, staying ten years or so in each country, before moving on. When she finally came back to England she would say she was her own daughter and start all over again. Her servants were either devoted or enslaved. Seren learned early on to be one of the devoted. Among the servants life was simple. Eat, chores, cater to their lady's rather excessive pleasures, and sleep. But they had known everything there was to know about vampires and their world. Seren had learned a lot, but once she knew enough she had plotted to make herself more valuable to the lady of the house. She had arranged for Korren to see her having a vision.

Things picked up after that. Korren was attentive and doted on her little seer vampire. She plotted and planned and used Seren's visions to advance herself in the mortal world. Seren had thought her vapid and shallow at first but then began to see how devious she really was. In the 1790s change was occurring in London. New ideas were sprouting up everywhere and the onset of the French revolution merely exasperated the unrest and turmoil that had gripped the nation. Writers were spouting off at the pen with radical ideas and a shoemaker by the name of Hardy had formed the London Corresponding Society; its sole purpose seemed to incite reform and annoy the government. Seren was unaware of all that, being eleven, a servant, and a newly made vampire who merely wanted to insure she would one day be a person to be reckoned with, but Korren was. Seren was aware that Korren was immersed in the newspapers and writings that had her laughing in amusement and gasping in rage but it didn't really touch her. Korren never brought mortals to the house unless they were to be added to the servants that seemed to number about thirty at any given time. Whenever she met with friends she did so elsewhere and Seren was none the wiser as to how involved in politics Korren really was.

When Seren turned twelve she convinced Korren to find her a school to attend. Korren wasn't exactly pleased but did agree that while Seren's visions were useful a fully trained gift could be more so. In the fall of 1794 Seren was enrolled in Tiresias Academy in Greece. The academy was very secret and highly unknown. It was remarkable that Korren had even heard of it. When Seren first arrived a Seer by the name of Mata took her aside and explained that they didn't like vampires, and the only reason they were taking her was because she was the most powerful child they had seen in nearly 400 years. Seren had gloated and accepted it when they bound her silence with magic. Seren spent six years on her studies and when she left she had learned far more then Korren had ever expected she would. Not only was her Sight under her control, so was her Will. But the Tiresias Academy was unique in the fact that its children, students and Masters alike, forever remained completely loyal. The vows that each took upon acceptance and then graduation saw to that as well as touchy things like morals that most adopted.

It was those very vows that kept her in check to this day. She had taken them long before she had taken been accepted into the clan and it was to them she remained loyal. She was loyal to the clan, would forever be, but the whims of fate and the future were ever changing and it was her sworn duty to see to it change did not occur to drastically. The boy. Seren nearly growled as her mind again turned towards him, guilt clawing at her. The boy would bring much change. If her plans went without disruption all would be well. If they didn't the future could be very dark indeed.

Seren blinked and the vision left her. The view of her chambers sharpened into focus and the Knowing was brief. She did growl. She had not planned for this!

The doors to her chamber opened and in walked her brother, his intensity a discernible scent around him. Of course it would be Hylaarr. Who else would come into her chambers uninvited and unrepentant. Who else would dare?

"Seren." Hylaarr was distraught and was letting it show. Seren's eyebrow raised. She was his sister yes, but must he be so unaware of his surroundings. She was being petty she knew. Hylaarr Kiinn was never unaware of his surroundings but the vision had rattled her and she felt as if her neck hairs were standing upright. She wished he wasn't there so she could hiss. Better yet-

She curled her lips and hissed, her face darting forward close enough for the spit of the hiss to hit his face had she allowed it. Still remaining so uncomfortably near she snarled at him. "What!"

Hylaarr's face relaxed into impassivity and he raised his own eyebrow. "I thought you would be curious to know that a seven year old boy has passed through every ward and protection we have and appeared in our chambers."

Seren pulled away from him abruptly. She could get away with much disrespect but such a reprimand deserved acknowledgment.

"I know." Seren was careful to keep her tone even.

Hylaarr simply looked at her. "Do you? How much do you know?"

Seren knew Hylaarr. He couldn't hide what he was thinking from her. Her brother was desperate for answers. He wanted reassurance that the boy was harmless. That if his over emotional mate decided to keep him the world would keep on spinning and they all would live happily ever after. Such a shame she couldn't do that.

"I know the boy is powerful enough to have done such a thing even at his age." Seren would make it harder then pulling basilisk teeth to get any information out of her.

"He's been abused." Hylaarr's lips pulled up into a snarl. "Starved."

Seren hid a wince. "I am aware." She forced herself not to shudder. When Hylaarr found out his son had been starved through her machinations, and one day he would find out, his wrath would leave her begging for the end before it was over.

"And are you aware of by whom this came about?" Hylaarr had leaned closer to her now and she could smell his anger.

"Yes." Seren waited for the blow.

"And are you going to tell me who did this so I can tear them apart piece by piece?" Hylaarr's duel eyes were fire and burning metal. Hot things designed to torture once they came to close.

Seren breathed out a huff of nervous air. "No."

Hylaarr's eyes went cold. "Why."

Seren stared at him, she refused to look down. She was not a submissive to be so cowed! "You know some things are inevitable, brother." She deliberately used the connection between them to reinforce her words. Hylaarr knew all to well how some things had to play out or fate's ire would be far heavier when it fell. She knew she had won when he didn't respond immediately.

Finally he spoke. "Well?" He asked impatiently. No doubt he was. The child was alone with his mate and that would set him on edge even if the boy were spelled asleep. "Are you going to tell me what you saw or should I go consult Aris?" Seren sneered at the mention of the werewolf seer.

"If you let the child live he will one day take up the mantle you bear." Seren announced this with as much pompous boredom she could manage. Inside she was shaking at the truth she spoke.

Hylaarr let his mouth curl up in a smile. "And would that be as my murder or heir?" Seren wanted to snarl but held herself back. Don't look so amused, Hylaarr, she wanted to spit at him. The words nearly choked her as she held them back. If you knew you would kill him without hesitation. But she knew he wouldn't. Not even if he knew what she did. He could never kill his own son.

Finally Seren couldn't stay silent. "That boy is dangerous, Hylaarr. Don't go courting such risk because of your soft heart."

"You should know I wouldn't, Seren." Hylaarr never chastised her but the words themselves did. He sighed. "You are too suspicious, Starlight." He said it in a teasing way but his voice was heavy. Fancy _Hylaarr Kiinn_ telling her she was to suspicious. He was the type to behead first and ask the ghost if he had intended to kill him or was just going to get some more tea.

Seren didn't answer him but turned back to the candles she had lit hours before and began her meditations. Hylaarr shook his head and turned to go.

Seren couldn't help herself, be dammed the vows and all that. "'He will lie to you, Hylaarr. Like a cat in the sun after a good hunt." Only not so obvious.

He paused to grin over his shoulder. "Doesn't everyone?" His humor had returned she saw. "You worry too much." With that said he left, sailing out of the chamber like the Lordling he was.

Fancy _Hylaarr Kiinn_ telling her she worried too much. If he knew what she knew... but he didn't. She had made that decision eight years ago, when she had gone against her vows to her bother and the clan and attacked the Consort. If she had told him perhaps... Perhaps the little monster in the Golden Suite wouldn't be sleeping peacefully but picking his teeth with bones and licking blood off his lips. Seren shook her head at that ridiculous image. It was better not to imagine. With her gift it could be a vision.

October 25th Late Evening

Upon awaking Harry moaned and shivered as the world tilted and quickly shut his eyes. His head swam and everything was rather unclear; memories bounced around without staying in one place for any amount of time. Gentle fingers ran through his hair and he froze. The memories suddenly straightened out and he scrambled up, the world tilting alarmingly as he pulled back as far as he could without falling off the bed he was apparently on. He blinked at the sight before him. Hylaarr and Osset're were tucked up into each other on the far left side of the bed, as he had seen them do countless times before; Osset're was leaning against Hylaarr's chest with the Dominant's arm around him, his chin resting on his mate's shoulder. Only once again they were staring at him. Osset're's hand had fallen when he had jerked away and now lay on the bed in a strangely beckoning position. Harry just stared. He held himself motionless, as if thinking if he didn't move they might not be able to see him. For once they were impossible to read. He didn't know what they were thinking.

Hylaarr finally moved, lifting his chin up, causing Osset're to stir a little. "What is your name, child?" He asked it in English.

Harry couldn't understand. His voice was curious; the question asked in an inquiring way, as if he wanted to know but was willing to wait to find out. It wasn't suspicious, nor angry, nor any of the things Harry had ever thought it would be. Harry wanted to drop his eyes but couldn't. Hylaarr might not be snarling at him for an explanation but his eyes were intense and refused to move from Harry's betraying him. Hylaarr wanted answers, he needed them, if only to insure himself that he and his mate weren't in any danger. Harry felt guilt pull him from his shock. It must have been a shock finding him in their private chambers. If he knew Hylaarr he would have been more wary then Harry when Vernon was being nice to him. Now that he thought about it he was more than surprised to find himself unrestrained. If it had been him he wouldn't have trusted someone so easily.

"Harry." He whispered softly and finally couldn't hold Hylaarr's gaze any longer. He looked down. "My name is Harry." He said it in English.

"Harry." That was Osset're. His name was twisted in Osset're's accent. "You are safe." Harry blinked and looked up at him bemusedly. Osset're's eyes were just as intense but also filled with concern and caring. Harry's breath caught. He had dreamed of this, when he was here, when he was at the Dursleys. He had dreamed of Osset're; telling him everything would be okay.

"Harry." Harry's eyes darted back to Hylaarr. "I am Hylaarr Somus Kiinn and this is Osset're Li'essha Kiinn." Hylaarr cocked his head like a curious dog, as if to study him from a different angle. "You are in our home called Crescent." His gaze if possible grew more intense. He looked at Harry as if he were trying to climb into his mind and find out everything about him. "Do you know how you came to be here, child?"

Something whispered at Harry to be very careful. He didn't want to listen. This was _Hylaarr and Osset're_. He trusted them. They were, perhaps, the only people he did. But that whisper, it sounded like the one that told him to drop his gaze to those who were more dominant them him, to not cry out when Vernon punished him, to listen and watch and remember everything. It had never steered him wrong. And so he heeded it. He didn't let a single thing show on his face and in his eyes and he didn't look down despite how much he wanted to. That could be taken as guilt. Instead he let him self shrink back under the more intense look he was receiving from the vampire lord and shook his head, then blinking, looked around as if he had never seen the marble chamber before.

"Magic." Said Osset're shifting a bit as if he wanted to move but Hylaarr's arm around him tightened. Harry noted it but didn't let it draw his eyes. "You were brought here by magic. Do you know what that is?"

Again the whisper. Careful. Harry knew what it meant. To deny knowledge of magic would lead to him being found out a liar. It would be all to easy to casually do something that Harry, having seen it before, wouldn't react properly to. But to tell of everything he knew could be very dangerous. Harry had been learning from them. He knew how to all sorts of magic that Osset're could do all of which Harry had heard Hylaarr call advanced and even marvel at. Harry also had been learning things on his own. He literally could do anything he wanted after a bit of practice. That could make Hylaarr suspicious. A suspicious Hylaarr was very dangerous. If he viewed him as a threat he could easily decide Harry wasn't worth the risk to him and his mate and simply kill him. Harry shivered and watched as both vampire's eyes took that in. Using that he nodded very quickly, and did drop his eyes. As if he knew. As if he was familiar with magic and didn't really want to be. Why he chose that lie to act out he didn't know.

"Harry, child." Osset're had soften his voice if that were possible. "Do people do magic around you a lot?" Harry couldn't help himself and his eyes widened and he shook his head wincing as the whisper snarled at him for it. But it was okay. Osset're seemed to relax, Harry hadn't even known he was tense until he did, and shot a _look _at Hylaarr before turning back to Harry. "Do people ever do magic around you?"

He couldn't take it back, that reaction, now. It would really look like he was lying. So Harry went with it, with the truth, which was easier to manipulate. He shook his head wildly and darted a look around as if someone, he used Vernon as inspiration, were going to yell at him for even mentioning magic. Osset're looked triumphant and Hylaarr relaxed a bit although not by much. It suddenly occurred to Harry that they were wary of him. They were suspicious, despite their concern, and had been hiding it. The only reason he had spotted it was because he knew them so well.

Hylaarr watched Harry and spoke next. "Can you do magic, child?" The way he said it confirmed that he knew Harry could. He should have thought of that. Osset're must have checked to see if he could. He knew he would have to tell the truth but it was so hard. He had been hiding it for so long it was ingrained in him to deny anything that might even imply he could. Breathing hard he nodded and looked down but everything he had been taught screamed at him.

Hesitating he licked his lips. "I-I'm not supposed to." He whispered, shaking. He wasn't supposed to do magic, speak of it, or even acknowledge it existed. He trembled. "Please don't tell," he pleaded. But it suddenly occurred to him that it didn't matter if they did. The Dursley's already knew. Vernon had called him a monster and had said he beated Harry to get it out of him. Harry shook his head in confusion. Had they always punished him for having magic? Were they supposed to? If so who had told them and why couldn't he use it?

"Harry." Hylaarr's voice was stern and demanded Harry look at him. "You are not in trouble." His eyes had softened. "We are not mad at you for performing magic." Harry nodded. Of course they weren't. They lived and breathed magic. He knew they would never be mad at him for doing it unless he abused it in some fashion.

"We are curious as to how you came to be here, Harry." Osset're hadn't been able to sit still and he had straighted while Hylaarr spoke and now leaned forward ever so slightly. "Did you do something?"

Harry's mind spun in circles. What to say. He had done something but so had the tall blond mage. The man had used a horrible spell to hurt Vernon and Harry had made it hurt himself instead. But how to explain that when he had said that no one did magic around him? If he said that he had done it himself they might not believe him and if they did they might be alarmed that he could so easily break past the wards Osset're spent days each year constructing. Besides it stood to reason that the magic that the mage had used was dark. That was alarming in itself, but it also made it easier to detect. He could claim not to remember but that could prove problematic if Osset're decided he was hurt and tried to heal him or something. He bowed his head, knowing that it made him look guilty, he was no vampire who used the ancient ways that Hylaarr and Osset're did, but he needed the security of the motion to cover any thought he couldn't contain. It had to be a mixture, both truth and lies. That would be easier to believe and would be easier for Harry to do.

"A man tried to take me away." He whispered haltingly head still bowed. "He cast a s-spell and it hurt and I-" Harry shook his head. He couldn't. He wasn't allowed! But he had to. "The liquid light, my m-magic, attacked him. I-I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to!" Harry was having a hard breathing easily and felt Osset're move towards him then stop. He shook his head and tried to finish. "I don't remember, something happened. The man was screaming and I was h-hurting," For some reason inspiration hit. "It felt like watching my p-parents die all over again." The lie had him blinking back tears. He had no memories of his parents, even of them dying. "A- and the magic stopped it and I felt like I was being smushed into a ball." That had happened once, during that first week at school, when he had been trying to avoid Professor Peter his magic had somehow taken control and he had felt like he was being scrunched and smushed and suddenly found himself on the roof of the school. It had taken a lot to get down without being seen.

"Oh, Child," Breathed Osset're and again moved towards him. This time Harry looked up at the sudden movement and flinched. He hadn't meant it. He knew Osset're wouldn't hurt him but he couldn't help himself. Osset're was going to touch him, pat his back, stroke his hair, or hug him. Everything felt raw, and he just couldn't stand the idea of anything touching him. He knew he would burst into tears if Osset're showed him any sort of tender affection. Osset're stopped as if stuck and Harry saw him swallow in hurt. Harry looked down.

"Harry." That was Hylaarr and his voice was so gentle Harry had never heard it directed at anyone but Osset're that way. He trembled. "You are a very good boy." Harry closed his eyes in shock. No one had ever said that to him. Not even Professor Peter. "You used your magic to protect yourself." Hylaarr continued and Harry shook his head back and forth in denial. "That was right. That was what its supposed to be used for."

Harry wanted to wail but habit kept that inside. He wasn't good! He wasn't. He had been told that time and time again. And using magic! Even that boy, who had looked like the tall blond mage, had said it was against the law. Perhaps it was against the law for someone who wasn't a mage. He must have been one and Osset're was one. That must be it. He wasn't to do magic because he wasn't a mage or elven or vampire. That was why the Dursleys beat him and why he had to live with them. If only he had known. He would have never starting using it! But the whisper snarled that if he hadn't Osset're would be dead and then he was just confused.

"Harry, child." Hylaarr was closer now, Harry hadn't even felt him move. "Your guardians, where were they?" Harry froze. He could hear it in Hylaarr's voice. It was the same one in Professor Peter's when he had interrogated him about the Dursleys. Hylaarr believed he was abused. Harry was abruptly exasperated. Why did everyone jump to conclusions? More, why didn't they ever consider that he might have done something to deserve the punishments. You'd think they'd know better. Children misbehaved. Everyone misbehaved. People were bad and they had to be punished. Harry's punishments were just more extreme. Harry should have known that Hylaarr would be able to tell though. He was a vampire and vampires could see a lot of things that other people couldn't. Why he didn't see that Harry was bad and had to be punished Harry couldn't tell but he knew that he wouldn't be believed if he told the truth. Harry couldn't tell Hylaarr and Osset're about the Dursleys.

Harry tensed as Hylaarr waited. He would have to come up with something. "Ran away." He brought up a sniffle, though that wasn't hard. Tears were very close to the surface just now. "The lady at the orphanage was mean." A bit simple but it might work. Not mentioning the name of said orphanage would prevent them from finding out Harry had lied. A part of Harry whispered that this was a dream, just like it always had been, and they really couldn't do anything but as usual Harry ignored that.

Hylaarr was even closer now, sitting next to Harry, and Harry unconsciously swayed towards him before he checked himself. Hylaarr smelled of the night breeze and lilacs and of Osset're. It made Harry want to smile.

"How long were you there?" Harry calculated furiously. He was seven, but he had to maintain that he remembered his parent's death. That would be about five then. So...

"Two years. Maybe three." Harry sighed. This lying thing was hard. Especially to Hylaarr and Osset're. Why was he doing it again?

"Did she hurt you, Harry?" That was Osset're. He was still where he had stopped when Harry flinched but he was fidgeting and snarls of icy blue magic winked as they trailed down his tan skin like tears.

Harry sighed and bowed his head a bit more. He had to do this right. "Punishment," he mustered a sneer. "_She_ called them." He shrank into himself, feeling horrid at the falsehood he was creating. "I didn't ever do anything though."

"I highly doubt you did." That was Hylaarr. He was growling a bit as he said that, and Harry breathed in relief. It had took. They wouldn't find out about the Dursleys.

Finally, Harry hadn't even known he was expecting it, Hylaarr touched him. Just fingertips to his shoulder, but he jerked in shock. This time, though, it was _Hylaarr_ and he wasn't as sensitive as Osset're. He didn't pull away at Harry's flinch, in fact he even added to it and put his entire hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shook, with shock, and a yearning so strong that he trembled. Did he have to do that? Harry didn't know if he could keep up the lying and his composure if the vampire lord continued. He vaguely remembered when he had first arrived and Osset're had held him close and Hylaarr had held him gently and both had muttered things in elven that Harry had only heard Petunia say to Dudley when he had woken up from a nightmare. Nights like those invariably led to Harry being pulled from his cupboard and punished for causing Dudley to have night terrors because of his freakishness. It shocked Harry how much the memory of them comforting him both warmed and terrified him.

"Harry." Hylaarr said it gently but firmly.

There it was again, that small but definite demand for Harry to look at him. Harry slowly brought his eyes up, first glancing at Osset're then dragging his eyes to Hylaarr. He was staring at him intently, caring and compassion in his expression and body language, but his eyes said he wanted something. His eyes said that he was about to get it.

"You don't have a home do you?" Harry blinked. He had said that hadn't he? "Your parents died, yes? And you were to sent to an orphanage to live?" Harry felt a bit sick in his stomach, but it mingled with terrifying happiness too. "Perhaps to be adopted, once a family saw you, but you ran away first." Harry stared at him and after a moment nodded.

"Would you consider," That was Osset're, and Harry turned to see he had moved forward and was leaning very close to Harry. "Staying here? With us? Let us adopt you?" Harry jerked in shock so hard it dislodged Hylaarr's hand. His eyes swung back to Hylaarr and saw the question mirrored in his eyes as well.

"You wouldn't want _me_." He blurted out, a gasp and a sob tearing their way out behind that. "I-I'm not-not anything!" How could this be? He had always wanted this, always dreamed. How could it be happening when he was so very very horrible. Not even a mage. And...

"Harry." Hylaarr said it quietly. "You are a very powerful child, with magic that would be unequaled, were you to be adopted into our clan." He just stared at the vampire lord in uncomprehending disbelief. "You would be our Heir, and would inherit much responsibility. More so you would be our child. Osset're's and mine." Osset're nodded emphatically no doubt making himself dizzy in the process. "We would love you, and protect you, and keep you safe." And Harry's world crumbled into blurry lines around him.

He had dreamed of Hylaarr and Osset're saying the things they were now; telling him that he was safe and they would make sure Harry was never harmed again. He had wanted them to love him for so long. And now they were looking at him as if they _cared. _As if they were concerned about him and they wanted to know everything just so they could make it better. But that was before; when Harry had thought his parent's hadn't wanted him and hadn't loved him and had hated him so much that they thought he needed to be sent to the Dursley's and punished over and over and over. It wasn't true. The man, the tall blond man who had stopped the Dursleys had said that they had been killed. By a dark wizard. Because of Harry. He didn't know what a wizard was but it seemed to be a type of mage. And a dark wizard had wanted him dead and had killed his parents to get to him. Why? Why did the mage want him dead? It didn't really matter. Not just now. What mattered was the fact that Harry's parents had loved him. And died because of that love. Harry shook his head in denial. If Osset're and Hylaarr cared for Harry could they be killed too? Harry swallowed back tears. He remembered two years ago when Osset're had been hurt and he had thought he would die. He would have given up anything to make sure he lived. Hylaarr had been inconsolable. Even if he hadn't loved Osset're so much he would have healed him if just to stop Hylaarr from hurting. If he accepted this, this love that they offered, it could lead to one or both of their deaths. Harry trembled. Could he give up what he had wanted for so long to prevent that? Yes. Everything in him whispered _yes. _There was no other option. Harry would have to see to it that they didn't love him. It hurt making that decision. Harry hadn't known love before, that he could remember. Not any directed towards him. To give it up; when he just found out that it could be possible. It was worse then learning of his parents. They had loved him and died for him but Harry hadn't loved them. Oh he had felt obligated to them, respect for them had kept him adhering to their wishes even though he lived in misery. But he hadn't loved them and so learning of their deaths had hurt, learning they _had_ loved him hurt more but not nearly as much as this. What was more Harry had no clue how to go about stopping them. After all he loved them. He knew first hand how love didn't care who it was directed toward. It just was.

He had been silent too long. The tears that had made their way down his face had tugged Osset're's sympathy cord too hard to be denied and once again Harry found himself in his embrace, being held and _rocked_ and whispered to in elven. And Hylaarr was there too. And Harry could tell they both were crying. He knew why. They were crying for Harry but also for the child they had lost so long ago. Eight years it would be in a few days. On Halloween. And Harry cried for them too. He was going to have to make them say no. To have them hate him or something and they would loose him too. So close to the anniversary of the boy the had loved and mourned for so long. How could he do that to them?

It would be better then them dying one day because of him. And even if that never happened, even if he knew it would never happen, how could he let them love him when he was so very unlovable. Petunia had said that, and Vernon. His parents had loved him apparently but they were his parent. There was almost an obligation to do so with that type of connection.

"Child. Harry." Osset're was still holding him close but Hylaarr had leaned back a bit. "You might not be aware but Osset're and I are vampires. Do you know what that is?"

Osset're didn't wait for Harry's reply but finished what his mate had started impatiently. "It means that we are other, child. A different race. Magical and different from humans." He paused but Harry was still numb from the tears he had let loose and didn't answer. "We must feed; drink the blood of humans and other creatures able to give it willingly. In exchange we are strong, we heal rapidly, have magic, enhanced senses, and a society separate from mortals. We would change you with the adoption, you would become, not Embraced exactly, but something similar to a Borne vampire and of course you would be the Heir, Hylaarr is the Lord of Consort and-"

"Osset're." Hylaarr cut off his mate's babbling. "Breathe. Now."

But Harry couldn't have been more grateful to the elven vampire. He had just given Harry an excuse to refuse the adoption without having to figure out a way to make them hate him.

"No." He mumbled this into Osset're's chest where he was still being held closely. He trembled at the lie he was about to say. He knew it would hurt them terribly. Better that then dead.

"No. I don't want to be a vampire." He suddenly pulled away from Osset're and twisted out of Hylaarr's hands and looked away, past the bed and to the marble floor beneath it. "I hate vampires."

He felt their shock with the intake of breath they both inhaled. They were hurt, and if he let it continue without embellishment Osset're would grow angry and indignant, and Hylaarr would once again be suspicious of him. Perhaps even see any holes he had left in his lies. He had to continue. A part of him whispered that he should leave it. He only wanted to say more to stop them from hurting but he ignored it.

"My p-parents were killed." He shook when he said that, it was the first time he ever had really. "By vampires. They came and one yelled at F-father a lot, then ordered the other a-and the other." He had to stop once before he could continue. "The other broke Mum's neck." He barely succeeded in making his voice hard and unemotional when he said that but he did. A seven year old didn't speak so bluntly about the death of a beloved parent unless it was in a numb sort of way. " I used m-magic to hide. They didn't see me. The policemen who came didn't believe me. It was them that took me to the orphanage."

Hylaarr and Osset're didn't answer and after a moment Harry didn't care. He didn't know how his parents had died but knew it hadn't been like that. Still, the emotion was the same and Harry couldn't stop the tears now. He felt himself fall, and this time no one caught him. That was alright. That was normal. No one ever cared when he had cried before. He crumpled into himself and curled into a ball on the bed and cried. Now he cried for his parents. They had loved him, and they had died. And now Harry could mourn them. Vernon wasn't here to tell him to shut up, and Petunia wasn't here to make harsh remarks on how horrid they had been and they were better off dead. It was just him, and the vampire's who must hate him cause he had said he hated them. And Harry cried.

And when Osset're for the third time stroked his hair and finally took him in his arms and held him close and _rocked_ him he didn't protest. And when Hylaarr whispered in elven that he understood and it was fine, and then whispered in vampire that he would see to it those who had done that would be punished, he cried some more. And didn't care if they believed his lies or not. For the moment they were there and he was safe and everything was better. Harry cried until sleep took him unnoticed. And Osset're and Hylaarr stayed with him the night through.

**So there it is. I hope it meet all your expectations. It was really hard writing Harry's part and I started it a while ago and then had to go and write other scenes. I even had to start a scene from Harry's point of view of the fireworks from last chapter but then it got deleted when I thought I had saved it at work and didn't. Oh well. It wasn't that important. Mostly I was trying to get the Harry mode for this last one. Sometimes things just don't come. I usually wait until they do to write them. I always seem to end with Harry crying and falling asleep. Its getting annoying. I guess I just try to make up for the angst of everything else. Hopefully as he gets older he'll stop all that crying. **

**A few things were cleared up I hope. **

**Remus, if you didn't catch that, was put in a mental ward by Dumbles cause he went crazy after the death of his pack and the betrayal of his lifebonded mate. No Remus does not know Rhory Silvereyes or Nir Moonrun. **

**I hope you liked Hylaarr's father though. You won't see him until after the adoption, most likely, but he'll be around sooner or later. Some history on Hylaarr hope you liked that, and if you want to know why I changed names with him, it was cause of the point of view. Osset're is the only one who calls him by his first name. Well Seren does too but she does that to everyone. Thinks she's better then them or something. His parents might, but I don't know yet. Harry does but then he's never really known him differently. Osset're called him Hylaarr and so thats what Harry always did. Hylaarr goes by Kiinn to everyone else, including himself. I did that because I want the connection between Harry and his parents to hold even after he's in Hogwarts. When he attends it will be under the name Kiinn and that will help in making sure no one forgets his heritage. **

**I really liked how Harry came out so Slytherin here. You all know he's going in Slytherin right? Yeah I have a hard time with him anywhere else. Besides I'm sure Draco gets lonely being in there all by himself. The lying and manipulation came out just right. I'm not sure if I like it as much as I did when I first finished but oh well. There will be more next chapter. **

**And as for our favorite vampire duo and their little shannigans well. I'll just leave that up to you to decide if you liked it or not. I refuse to apologize or anything. **

**So I was threatened with small pointed objects and gerbils if I don't finish this story. Hmm. Kinky. Anyway. I respond well to threats. It must be 'cause I'm Slytherin at heart. The hat would more than likely put me in Ravenclaw but I'd rather be in Hufflepuff then Ravenclaw. I like to think I am evil snake though so I'm going to go with Slytherin. If you all want to review just to threaten me to finish the story feel free. I'm all for creative kinks after all. **

**Missing you and all that.**

**Fitful**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay I sorry. Its been over two weeks since I updated. I have excuses!! I've been packing, I'm moving in two days. And the past few weeks work really picked up and those three hours I have to do nothing but write suddenly disappeared. Oh and I accidentally packed my muse. Yeah. So may I point out, to all the pitchfork and gerbil wielding readers, that if you kill me you won't ever get anymore chapters and you will never know my plans because all my notes are spelled to spontaneously combust upon my timely or untimely demise. Muhahahaha. **

**Anyway. Here's a lot of Harry, some Hylaarr, a few new ocs, ick I KNOW, and Osset're throwing a fit there at the end. IT really sucks I'm well aware. All the planning I did, during those hours where I was supposed to be writing but wasn't able to, is well for later chapters, namely the next and many later and some after he gets to Hogwarts etc. Sorry for any errors you see. I've been up all night, its now 8 am, as I got bit by the writing bug. I think my muse went on vacation. **

**OK: DISCLAIMER**

**Kian and Roban Agan are mine. And Rowan. The song Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair is not mine and I'm too tired to look up who. The Scottish dialect was taken from an online translator and a bit of memory for the last time I wrote a story that required it. There are a few definitions at the bottom. Also if you have a hard time thinking in the accent go to youtube and type in Scottish Accent Lessons. Or watch Lord of the Rings. Those twin hobbits. **

**Oh and the food. None is made up. I have tried a lot of it and seen most. I thought I'd show it in written visual but that would have taken up too much room and I love working on Osset're's character. **

**The lullaby is mine a I wrote it on the spur of the moment for the story. Originally I was a poet, then I turned 20. **

**Morrigan or Morrigu is sadly not mine. She's a real mythological goddess. You might recognize her as Morgan la Fae or thats one version. I'm going to pick at others and eventually make up my own.**

**OH And some reviewer said my paragraphs were too long, which I Knew and was Planning on Fixing, and the imp of the perverse kept whispering at me to ignore them and maybe make them even longer but good sense won out. There are shorter paragraphs here and the last chapter has been fixed of that. I really hate it when someone tells me to do something I'm planning on doing anyway. **

**Yeah enough chatter. I'm going to bed. **

October 26th

Morning

Harry woke up without pain. Opening his eyes he was, for once, dismayed at finding himself in the private chambers of Osset're and Hylaarr Kiinn. The sun had risen to lay splashed against the fabrics tangled on the bed creating the illusion that he lay in a bed of fire. He was alone.

Harry sighed. For once he would have been glad to find himself back at the Dursleys. After all that had happened it would be misery but being here was painful too. He would have to be so careful. Hylaarr and Osset're couldn't be allowed to care for him. He breathed in quickly at the thought but continued. He would have to keep up the fiction that he hated vampires. He knew he couldn't get them to hate him easily, it wasn't something he could do despite the fact that most everyone he knew did hate him, and it was the better course. They would step lightly around his feelings, afraid to make _him_ afraid of _them._ As if that could happen. Even with all he knew of them he doubted he could ever actually fear them. Not properly.

Stretching he moved carefully but as usual of being here could find no pain in the movement. That confirmed it. He was still dreaming. A part of him had secretly hoped that somehow his dream had become reality and he was actually in Crescent but that was foolish. Crescent and her Lord and Consort only existed in his head. Worriedly he looked around. The vampires were no where to be found. They had left him alone and that said they trusted him. They didn't even know he couldn't leave the chambers! Harry blinked and bit his lip at the thought. He couldn't leave the chambers. He had never been able to. He had never been able to leave the main room; when he had tried it had been as if there was an invisible wall blocking him. When he became aware of magic he had been able to see that it was a shield made purely of magic. He couldn't even enter the loo. How would he cover that up? If he told them that he'd been here before... That would ruin his whole story. The lies would crumble and they would find him out.

The twin, golden doors opened; not flung open in announcement as was usually the way Osset're did, but softly as if careful of disturbing whoever was behind them. It was that very action that had his eyes widening as Osset're peeked around the opening door. He had expected Hylaarr. But it was the elven vampire that, upon seeing him awake and watching, pushed the doors open with a gentle breeze of magic as his hands were quite full, laden with trays of what looked and smelled to be food. A swirl of fabrics and magic trailed behind him as did Hylaarr who was also carrying a tray. The doors closed by themselves and Harry reminded himself just him time to gawk at them. Both vampires caught his look and smiled; Osset're's smile showing flashing white teeth in silent laughter, and Hylaarr's an equally toothy grin.

"Harry." The accent twisted his name in the elven vampire's mouth and made Harry want to grin. "I thought you might be hungry." Osset're rushed across the room to plop himself ungracefully on the bed before Harry had even the chance to sit up. The trays hovered when he let go of them and then softly floated down to rest on the bed in between them. "Of course you are! We've brought you many good things to eat, though you might not recognize much. We're rather adventurous in our meals as we don't need to eat solids as much as mortals do. There's a bit of everything here." He waved at the trays before him with a flourish, ignoring the way Harry backed up quickly to sit carefully out of reach. Looking up he met Harry's green eyes with his own sparkling violet ones. "My favorite are the canapés."

Osset're was always so.. so.. bouncy. He was filled with nervous energy and his fingers were caught and tangled in the ends of his long white hair. It made Harry want to smile as it was such a familiar thing for Osset're to do. He could almost imagine that they didn't even know he was there. Except for Osset're anxious gaze that watched every breath he took and Hylaarr's duel eyes that watched each breath as if it were going to start spilling secrets. He couldn't stop the small upturn of the corner of his mouth but quickly tried to cover that up with a curious glance at Osset're's white hair.

"Why's your hair white?" He couldn't help it that his voice was scratchy with sleep. In fact he wanted to rub his eyes but didn't.

Osset're grinned. "Elven blood. I'm elven or I used to be. Before being Embraced." He shot a fond almost triumphant look at Hylaarr who had made his way to them and stood by the bed watching Harry and his mate intently. "Actually I think I still am, its just the vampire part is more dominant."

Harry frowned at that rambling explanation. He actually didn't know why Osset're's hair was such a shocking white but had assumed it was because he was old as vampires lived a long time.

"The elven are a rather flamboyant race, Harry," Hylaarr said and smirked at his mate as if to dare him to take offense. "Their coloring often is unnaturally bright; reds, golds, blacks, browns, even whites, silvers and rarely greens, blues, violets, and oranges often make up their hair and eye color and are obnoxiously glaring in intensity."

Harry just stared at them. That it was offered so freely was as astonishing as the information itself. Blinking at the two vampires he concluded he really wasn't awake yet. Perhaps he was dreaming. Don't be an idiot, Harry, of course your dreaming! The voice yelled at him sounding irritated that he wasn't paying more attention. Harry nearly snorted at the thought that he was yelling at himself. Still it was right. He ought to be paying more attention. If he let on that he knew any of this he could be found out.

"What exactly is elven?" He bit his lip. They might not tell him. He was interested and whenever he was interested in something the Dursleys were always sure to see to he didn't find much if anything at all.

Osset're scooted onto the bed a bit more and Harry backed up a bit. Osset're noted that and stopped when his feet were pulled up next to him but let his fingers fiddle with the blanket he sat on. "Elven is a race, apart from the human one or ones with human blood in them. An elf is magical, more so then humans or even magic wielding mortal races; each one has the ability to use magic however little they devote themselves to it." Osset're said this in half disgust half exasperation. "There are often attributes that are different from humans or other similar mortals." A wide grin threatening to freeze his face in a permanent smile he snapped on his fingers and brought his hand up to pull his long hair behind one ear and let the rest fall behind his shoulder. The ear he revealed was pointed at the tip and a held a hint of a curve as long bit of silvery jewelry pierced it and weighed it down. Harry had seen it before but smiled at the sight. He had fond memories of Osset're fiddling with the earring when he was occupied doing something usually reading. Osset're hated sitting still and when he had to usually some part of him was in motion.

"If your done showing off, Osset're, perhaps you should feed the youngling." Said Hylaarr raising his left eyebrow. His duel eyes smiled even as he implied that his mate couldn't manage such a feat.

Osset're simply huffed at him and leaned over the tray he had put directly in front of Harry. Pushing a dish forward he smiled encouragingly. "These are called biscuits in America, child." He gestured wildly to a plate of three golden brown round cakes. "They aren't sweet though, more like bread I think." He touched a small vessel that looked similar to a cream pitcher. "I like them with gravy."

Harry just stared at him. He was hungry but the array of food before him was overwhelming. And they were watching him too.

Osset're just shook his head when Harry didn't answer and gestured to another dish. "These are strawberries, but you've surely had those." Harry hadn't. Petunia refused to let him eat fruit, even when it was too rotten for the Dursleys they just threw it away. " And here are; cheeses like Twaróg and kasar, biscotti, yoghurt, fruits, croissants, bacon, sausages, sobrasada; kedgree, thats grilled tomatoes; black pudding, don't eat that its horrible and only insane vampires eat such crap, rice porridge, fried potatoes and yum mushrooms, waffles, oh and galletas, thats like a biscuit; toast, you can put anything on it, butter honey, olive oil and salt, marmalade or nutella cream, and jams, eggs; scrambled, boiled, fried, poached, hmm I like the ones with the yoke on top; Naan and Nihari, that's bread and beef and curry stew; muesli, Kimchi, Falafel, and ..." Osset're continued to ramble on gesturing wildly to everything as if to emphasize it. Finally he wound down when he came to the tray of drinks Hylaarr had set on the bed. "And there are juices; apple, which is nasty don't drink it; orange, I love orange juice; grapefruit, sour; pumpkin, too rich for everyday; and grape, which I highly recommend. Also there is tea, coffee, maté, hot chocolate-" There he stopped and grinned conspiratorially at him while Hylaarr frowned a bit at Osset're. Hylaarr disapproved of Osset're's sweet tooth, rather wise as Osset're was hyper enough without sugar, though he more often then not indulged his mate when he deemed it appropriate. "And milk. Or soy milk if your prefer, or goats milk-"

"Osset're. Enough." Harry could have hugged him for stopping Osset're's insane rambling. Why he hadn't done it before Harry didn't know but he was very grateful he had. Harry hadn't ever been offered a quarter of this ever in his life. To say he was uncomfortable and overwhelmed was quite the understatement. He didn't even recognize half the foods he was sure he was supposed to and that was with him visiting the vampires quite a lot in the past years. Apparently the I-hate-vampires ploy hadn't stemmed their enthusiasm to treat him well. And feed him well too.

"I-I'm not that hungry." A lie. He could feel his stomach yowling at him. He hadn't eaten in, what two maybe three days? That happened often as the Dursleys used starvation as an easy punishment but Harry was used to being able to eat his fill here and his stomach knew it.

Hylaarr raised an eyebrow and looked at him like he did Osset're when he knew him mate was lying. Harry flushed and looked down fiddling with a corner of the blanket that Osset're still worried between his fingers and magic.

"Harry." Osset're's voice was demanding but softly earnest. "You haven't eaten in a while have you?"

Harry blinked and looked up at him. The violet eyes shined with concern. Harry snorted to himself. As if a few days of missed meals would hurt him much. He had long since become immune to hunger pains. Slowly he shook his head. Hylaarr made a huffing sound that he knew meant he was angry. Harry bit his lip. Vampires took food and feeding very seriously. Of course they would be horrified by the fact that Harry hadn't eaten in a while. Hopefully they would assume it was because he was a runaway living on the streets.

"The food is quite edible," said Hylaarr watching him carefully. "We've included nothing made specifically to vampire taste."

Harry frowned. Vampire taste? Like what? Of course they wouldn't offer him blood. That was silly.

Hylaarr shifted uncertainly before explaining. "Some of our food is made with blood in it. We have perfected over the years the art of changing recipes to include it without cooking it away. Not all but most vampires consider this an essential part of their diet and some only eat solids that have been prepared thusly" He was very hesitant about explaining most likely because he didn't want to remind Harry that he was dining with vampires whom he supposedly hated. "The taste is quite revolting to those who aren't blood drinkers so I've been told."

Harry had no idea what they were talking about. He licked his lips and dared to ask. "Do you," he glanced at Osset're to include him, "Eat food like that?"

Osset're answered. "Yes. I've found most of it quite good and Hylaarr is one of those vampires who feeds only from his mate and therefore must supplement his diet with blood in other ways." He too seemed hesitant to talk about it and it showed in how reserved his explanation was. "All blood is given willingly, Harry, you needn't worry about that. Vampires who take blood by force are not apart of our clan."

He really wasn't worried, though he probably should pretend to be so. He was concerned as he had been eating whatever Hylaarr and Osset're did for years now and never once had he noticed the food tasting horrible or even different from anything he had eaten at the Dursleys. He chewed his lip. The fact that the Dursleys gave him old and rotting food might explain that but he wasn't sure. He wasn't a vampire after all. He didn't need blood or anything. How could he not notice the addition in the food?

"Harry you are hungry." Hylaarr had grown tired of Harry's silent refusal and decided to make a decision for him. "You will eat something." Harry wanted to smile but knew better. He lowered his eyes and nodded but didn't reach for anything. It was so hard to convince himself to do things that had been ingrained in him by the Dursleys not to do. He knew Hylaarr would never hurt him unless he was a threat or something but he was so used to Vernon casually throwing a fist about that he had a hard time remembering where he was.

Hylaarr sighed and Harry darted a look at him as he moved and picked up a piece of toast. Leaning over the bed to reach him he pushed it into Harry's hand so insistently he was forced to take it. It wasn't just toast. It was a large slice of freshly baked bread, still hot from the oven, butter melted and dripping so although it was crisp the inside was soft and warm. He had never seen such a piece of bread before let alone been given one to eat. If they kept this up they wouldn't have to convince him to stay. He beg them to.

Looking at Osset're who nodded enthusiastically he hesitantly took a bite. He really couldn't help it; he closed his eyes. It was warm and soft and tasted slightly sour. The butter was salty and rich and made it slide down his throat. He wanted to devour it but knew better. After going to so long without food that would make him sick. Instead he finished that first bite and opened his eyes to see the two vampires looking at him intently. The emotion in their eyes made him dizzy and he couldn't look at them long enough to separate each emotion and name it. He looked down at the toast. It was so large he could barely hold it. Crumbs had fallen and he carefully picked them up with one hand while the other balanced the toast against his knee. He heard Osset're sigh softly but didn't look up.

"Harry." He darted a quick glance at Osset're to show he had heard. "After you have eaten I'd like to have our healer look at you." Harry froze in alarm. Then he relaxed.

"Alright," he whispered. It would be fine. He never hurt when he was here and strangely the scars left by the punishments never showed here. It was how he knew it was a dream.

If he ever resented anything about the punishments it was the scars. They pulled and twinges and in many places he couldn't even feel anything. Dudley made fun of the one on his forehead, which he didn't remember getting and Vernon and Petunia were always after him to keep them covered. He knew why. People would suspect abuse. He was always sure to keep his hair pulled over his forehead and careful never to move it from the back of his neck. Petunia put up with it being long just to cover the scars there. He never wore short sleeves. He didn't own any. Petunia had him pack the summer things Dudley outgrew for donations to the church.

He would have to be careful. The healer would still find him too small and malnourished. If he used magic on this one it would surely be noticed and that would be remarkable in itself. To distract himself from worrying he carefully took another bite. It was better then the last and it made Osset're hum in delight. Harry peeked at the elven mage who sat with his hands clasped together a fiercely satisfied look on his face. Harry couldn't help himself this time and let a small smile show. The change in Osset're was astonishing. His eyes lit up and he practically glowed with pleasure; indeed his magic swirled up around him in delight; glowing bits of reds and yellows and oranges curling into patterns in the air around him. Harry stared at them, trying to remember the last time he had seen this form of Osset're's happiness, but Hylaarr put a steadying hand on his mates shoulder and the magic settled back down to race along his skin and investigate Hylaarr's hand instead.

"It makes Osset're very happy that your eating, child," he said softly, a thumb rubbing circles into his mate's shoulder. "When he his happy his magic can't help but express itself."

Harry nodded slightly but continued to watch the magic and Osset're. He could feel his heart yearning wistfully. If just eating made Osset're happy with him what would performing magic do? That thought reminded him he wasn't a mage and therefore wasn't allowed to use magic and he looked down again to watch the toast.

A twinge in his forehead had his hand flying up to grasp his scar, which wasn't there here, and a half gasp half moan escaped him. Not now. Harry wanted to growl as the pain in his scar intensified and he dropped the piece of toast. This had happened quite a few times since he had begun using his magic but never before here. Harry could hear the trays being moved hastily and felt the bed dip as Osset're came closer. A cool citrus smelling touch of magic engulfed his head as Osset're laid a gentle hand there. The pain faded slowly, not disappearing entirely but enough that he was able to look up into concerned violet eyes.

"Sorry," he couldn't help but mumble. The Dursleys had always been enraged whenever this happen and invariably followed it with a harsh beating and being thrown in the cupboard for days without food.

"Hush, child, does it hurt?" That was Osset're sounded so concerned tears pooled in his eyes before he blinked them away. Shaking his head he pulled back from the elven vampire's comforting hand causing it to fall and lay aimlessly between them. Harry just now noticed how close Osset're was and jerked away from him in shock so abruptly he fell off the other side of the bed. Landing painfully, as the bed was rather far from the ground, he looked up warily at the fair headed mage. Expecting laugher he was again astonished to see Osset're frowning in concern. While that was uncharacteristic of the elf even more proof waved itself about in the air around him in the form of his magic. It hovered in the air in blue and yellow swirls that formed faces of small animals all chattering silently in worry.

Osset're glanced at Hylaarr who was also frowning at Harry but while he looked concerned as well he also looked disapproving. Harry blinked. Oh. He must be thinking that Harry was afraid of them and was upset that his actions upset Osset're. Harry looked down at the floor, unable to do anything about it without blowing his cover, but still stung by the Dominant's silent reproach. He heard Hylaarr sigh and felt him walk around the bed to kneel beside Harry.

"Harry look at me." Hylaarr's voice was insistent and Harry looked up at him forcing himself to meet his eye. Breathing a bit harshly to stem the tears he waited for the rebuke. "We will _not_ harm you, Harry," said Hylaarr so firmly Harry couldn't help but believe him. "I give you my word on my blood and the blood of my mate. While you stay here no harm will come to you by my hand or any I call kin."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock and closing it he swallowed painfully and looked away. Why did they have to be so kind? He could never keep this up if they continued to do so. He felt a hand reach out the grip his chin. It wasn't harsh or painful the was Petunia did it but it was demanding. In fact it was an order, as had his previous command to look at him been. A bit of guilt squirmed in his belly as he met Hylaarr's eyes. How could he have disobeyed an order from a Dominant. He was so bad. He deserved anything Hylaarr meant to do as punishment. He released his chin once their eyes met but the order remained.

"Now, Harry." He tensed expectantly. "Are you hurt?" Harry shook his head again before the question registered. "And your head? Does it hurt now?" Hylaarr eyed him in a way that Harry knew meant he better now lie. He bit his lip. Wasn't he going to be punished? He hurt Osset're. He hadn't meant to but the Submissive was so sensitive.

"It hurts, but just barely, sir," Harry whispered. Hylaarr nodded as if he had known but his eyes gleamed with approval. He was pleased that Harry hadn't lied.

"You may used my name child," He smiled slightly when he said this. "I do not like being addressed as 'sir'." Hylaarr's smile took away the sting of that chastisement.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "You want me to call you Hylaarr?" He blurted out before thinking. He had always called him that in his head but Hylaarr was a Lord and therefore a very important person. How could he let someone address him so informally. Especially someone like _Harry_.

Hylaarr twitched when he heard that question but Osset're drew Harry's attention before he could see why.

"Yes, Harry. Hylaarr and Osset're are perfect." His eyes were dancing with bedevilment and he smirked a bit. Harry was a bit puzzled by that and turned to Hylaarr for acknowledgment. Hylaarr was the Dominant after all and therefore could overrule his submissive mate. Hylaarr had a strange expression on his face but his eyes were smiling.

"Yes, Hylaarr will do, child." He looked at Harry expectantly. "I do believe it is time for you to meet Kian."

Harry tensed. "Who, si-Hylaarr?"

Hylaarr's eyes glowed with an indescribable emotion. "Kian is our healer. We want to see how your health is and if you were hurt by the attack."

"Also," said Osset're from his perch on the bed. "There is a bit of..aya.. dark magic around your head..." He trailed off uncertainly.

Harry frowned. The Dursleys couldn't use magic. He felt a bit cold. They were always so mad when his showed. It was possible, since they knew about magic, that it had happened before. The tall mage said something about the dark wizard killing his parents in order to kill him. He must have tired to kill him and somehow Harry got away. With only a scar. Well a scar still had dark magic in it. Harry bit his lip. How would he explain that? The 'vampires' who had 'attacked his parents' hadn't even noticed him let alone used magic. His head still throbbed a bit and he brought up a hand to touch where the scar would be.

"If you are feeling well enough," said Hylaarr getting up. "We'll go and see her now."

Go and see her... Harry froze then forced himself to relax hoping they wouldn't notice. He couldn't leave the chambers! The dream magic wouldn't let him. Luckily they once again gave him an excuse.

"I- Do we have to go?" He asked quietly. "I'd rather stay here. I'm not feeling to well after all." The little whisper sneered at him. That was weak. They'll never believe it.

But they did. Harry peeked a glance at Osset're who visibly softened. "We can have her come here, child. It won't be a problem." He looked at Hylaarr who frowned but nodded when he noticed Harry's questioning gaze and Harry breathed a silent sigh in relief.

"Okay. I'll meet her," Harry said softly. He was still worried. What would she find? He wouldn't even be able to tell unless she said something. He hope she didn't find much. Somehow he had to get back to the Dursleys.

October 26th

Morning.

Kian Meris Agan sung softly to the child that was still unborn and resting inside her. Her hand gently caressed the belly that was well rounded now and she smiled.

"The shadows nestle beneath the moon

And the dawn sleeps far away.

Broken is the silence

By the Goddess's whispered croon

And the roar of the day

Is absent; hours hence."

It was an old lullaby her mother had sung. Her mother had been Embraced and before had been a child of a Celtic bard. It had been her grandmother who wrote the song in honor of the raven goddess Morrigu. The song was of the night and the moon and the death of a child just as dawn rises. Kian didn't fear for her child. She knew should the Goddess decide her child would die but her Goddess had decided the child would live and had told her long ago. She fingered the round stone that hung at the base of her throat by a leather cord. On it, etched into the stone, was a raven. She had awoken wearing it in the night just after she had discovered her pregnancy. It was a clear sign. And therefore she sung to her child of the Goddess and of the night and of death. It was best she learn as soon as possible. Death was a part of life. An unending circle. As a healer Kian knew this all too well.

Roban whispered a good morning and kissed her belly so gently. His black hair fell to rest on the white cotton covering it and she gently pushed it away so she could see his green eyes. It was getting too long again. Soon she would have to cut it, and afterwards burn the locks. He was ever the superstition Scottish man but still laughed at her for her Cornish beliefs. It wasn't so much as superstition for her but habit and tradition. She wouldn't for instance, ever condone leaving her child's hands unwashed for her first year.

"How abit 'Black is the Colour of My True Love's Hair,' Loove?" He murdered still half asleep.

Laughing she obliged him.

"But Black is the colour of my true love's hair.  
His face is like some rosy fair,  
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,  
I love the ground whereon he stands."

He smiled as she sang and kissed her belly. "Ah was thinking bait Rowan. Fur th' name, ye ken?"

Smiling she bent and kissed his face. Whispering softly in his ear she teased him. "For _The Rowan Tree_?"

He chuckled at that but in a quick move had his hand wound in equally black locks and her on her back. She was completely relaxed. She had been expecting that; he was after all her Dominant.

"Nae woman!" He mock growled into her ear nipping slightly, pleased when she gasped and tilted her neck to the side in invitation. He ignored it but she knew he was pleased. Roban was a true Dominant and loved it most when she gave up complete control. More frustrating was when he sought to do so outside of her comfort. Such as in public places.

"Fur th' cabre we were under when we first met." He released her hair rising to kiss her chin and meet her eyes.

"An' when we first kissed." He leaned down softly and kissed her on the lips, so gently, with just a breath shared between them as it had been that first time.

"An' when we first gart loove." Wicked green eyes laughed at her like dew on the grass. Then he kissed her more fully, so she lost control of breathing and let him do it for her and lost control of her desires and let him remember for her. Hands slipped down to pull up the cotton gown she wore and caress warm, smooth, bare skin at the thighs, and the stomach, and up to cup her breasts. Teasing her he pulled away and kissed downward, mapping out the path between her breasts, passed her ribs, and to her stomach. She let him, he was always so predictable and she had known what he would do. It never mattered. He was always in control, and although predictable, she always enjoyed that.

"An' when we gart our first barin." He kissed her belly, round with their child, and she gasped then laughed when there was a furious kick from inside. His eyes glowed when he followed her hand to her belly and when he touched there and felt the kick the possessive look in his eyes was wild and loving and eternal.

A knock on the door shattered the stillness of the morning and intruded upon them as if they had been the only two, well three, in the world until it came. Snarling Roban was off the bed faster than she could blink leaving the cool morning air an unwelcome substitute.

"Dinna move." He ordered her with a look. She smiled softly at him in reply and watched as his shoulders relaxed a bit. He had been very upset by the intrusion. If there was a knock on the door when both of them were supposedly off duty then it must be for her and therefore a medical emergency, not something he could snarl at and frighten away. He was the type of person that once he had his mind set on something was utterly horrified if it didn't play out exactly as he had planned. The threat of her leaving had him upset as they had planned for this day off for weeks now. They would spend it together, perhaps the last bit of time they would have to themselves before the child was born. Because he was this way, as much as because she was submissive and he had given an order, she stayed where she was and didn't bother covering herself. Whomever disturbed them would be sure to see but the sight would help in hurrying them away that much faster. And if it were an emergency then Roban would tell her she must attend to it and it would then be and order and his idea. Both would keep him calm and relatively even tempered until she got back.

When he neared the door his nostrils faired. "Boughin wench!" He snarled. It must be Seren then. Roban hated quite a few people but none so much as the dominant seer. He wrenched open the door to their chambers and hissed at the red headed vampire.

"Caliach Somus." He said discourteously.

Seren raised her eyebrow in eerie imitation of their lord. "I am not an elder yet, Childe." She couldn't see but knew Roban must have dropped his eyes. Seren was after all one of the Three and therefore more Dominant. He really oughtn't speak to her so. But Seren kindly let it go. "Kian is needed in The Golden Suite."

"Wa?" Roban was still but had looked up and met Seren's eyes, grass green to dark forest green. His left hand twitched inches away from the knife he always had hidden there.

"A child has Drifted into the chambers of our Lord and Consort. Magically."

"Ye haver?" Roban gasped in amusement. Kian wanted to laugh against her better judgment. Only _Roban_ would accuse the Seer of Crescent of being senile.

Seren's eyes narrowed. "I speak only truth, Agan." Roban nodded but Kian knew it was a mocking nod. "'The child has been abused and recently tortured by a spell." Kian sucked in a breath her hand still on her belly pressing against it possessively. "Your mate is needed."

With that he Seer turned and left knowing the what the out come of her visit would be without even needing to See it.

Roban stood staring after Seren in astonishment for a moment then softly closed the door. Slowly he turned to her and although she could see the disappointment in his every move his eyes held determination.

"Ye hae tae go, loove." His eyes stared at her intently, almost apologizing.

Roban might be brash, abrasive, arrogant, and stubborn he was a good person, a good vampire, and a good dominant. Even without their unborn child weighing on his mind he would have hastened her out the door and come along to help if he could. He couldn't. His Will didn't work the way hers did. He was a warrior and therefore first on the battlefield and usually last off it. When she was called it was usually to convince him to leave before she could begin her duty of healing. He felt helpless when there was nothing he could do. She knew when she left he would spend the entire time fretting about the child and making plans to avenge him. It was why she loved him so much. It was such a shame he wasn't her lifebonded. She knew why he wasn't. His act first think later attitude would one day see to it she made her way to the battlefield and found him numbered among the dead. Kian worst fear was that it would be sooner rather then later.

October 26th

Late Morning

When the soft mindtouch of one of his guards, Traff, let him know Kian was at the door Kiinn couldn't help but thank the Ancients he had a sister who was a seer. Leaving the boy on the bed where he Osset're had coaxed him a few minutes before Kiinn made his way to the twin golden doors. Opening it he smiled at the small healer, dressed in green with thick velvet robes open to reveal the child she would birth soon. Motioning her in he felt the gaze of the boy but ignored it. Once he met the Submissive healer he would be more at ease. For now let him watch.

Kian's soft mindtouch brushed quietly against his thoughts and he welcomed it gently. The little Submissive always was polite when mindspeaking. She followed The Ancient Ways as if born to them and indeed he had been. Her mother had been one of the first to join his clan many years ago.

"**Seren said there was a child?"Said Kian softly. **

"**Yes, Kian. The boy, Harry, is there."** He nodded to the bed. The boy was eating a strawberry Osset're had convinced him to try. He looked to be enjoying it but his eyes remained on Kiinn and the vampire healer. "**He is very wary around vampires. His parent were killed by a few."**

Kian nodded and rubbed her belly protectively. "**They hurt him?"**

"**No. It happened years ago I believe. He witnessed it, and used magic to hide."** Kiinn was still uncertain about that. It seemed miraculous that they had missed him. Even rogues leaned how to used their skills to the extent of their abilities. "**He was sent to an orphanage. The mortal who was in charge abused him."**

Kian nodded but her eyes were horrified. She watched the boy and Kiinn longed to know what she was seeing, what he had missed. "**He's in pain."**

Kiinn growled. That boy was too good at lying. "**Apparently he was attacked. A spell, designed to torture, brought back the memory of his parents death and that coupled with the pain cause him to Drift. Somehow he bypassed every ward we have."**

Kian's eyes widened and she looked at the boy intently**. "Did you have Osset're block his magic?"**

"**Of course."** Kiinn said stiffly and Kian's eyes swung to his and upon seeing the rebuke dropped to the floor. Kiinn felt the boy's interest increase and then relax. Good. Now the boy knew Kian was Submissive. That would help enormously. The boy was more skittish then a snake.

"**I apologize, my lord."** Came Kian's soft whisper in his mind and Kiinn felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn't have let the Submissive worry so.

"**I as well."** Kian astonishment was obvious in her smell**. " I am not angry. I merely wanted the boy to note you were Submissive, childe."** Kian sighed and nodded thought her eyes remained downcast.

Kiinn couldn't let her remain that way. Gently her took her chin and brought her eyes back up to meet his. He let his pleasure at her subservience show and was rewarded with a small secretive smile. Clever child! She had been acting for the boy's sake. And it had worked. When they turned their attention back to him he was eating an orange as if he had never had one before. Hylaarr's eyes narrowed. So did Kian's.

"**He hasn't had an orange before."** Shock and outrage was obvious in her mindvoice and scent.

"**You are sure?"**

" **Yes my lord."** Kian was very firm. "**How old is he?"**

"**Seven."**

Kian swallowed in shock**. "When you find the mortals responsible make sure they know hunger."** Kiinn snapped to look at her in surprise**. "That child has been starved often for a very long time. All his life I wouldn't hesitate to guess."**

Kiinn growled. If the boy's parents weren't dead he would kill them. "**He isn't scarred."**

Kian's reply was grim. "**There are other forms of abuse."**

"It would please me and my mate if you would take the time out to check the boy over. **I know you had plans. Roban will be missing you."** Kiinn let his amusement show.

"**My mate understands that duty to Lord and clan comes first."** Said Kian primly. Kiinn laughed at her. "It would be a pleasure, my lord." Kian said this warmly and was rewarded by a quick smile from the boy thought he didn't look their way.

Kiinn nodded and nodded for her to move. Kiinn followed her as she made her way slowly over to the bed. The boy's eyes immediately fastened to her as she approached and Kiinn put a guiding hand on her shoulder allowing him to see it. He relaxed a bit but still watched them intently**. "The boy was in terrible pain earlier. From his head."**

"**I've sensed dark magic there. An old curse. A deadly one."**

"**As I suspected."**

Kian stopped in front of the bed. The boy moved a bit closer to Osset're to his mate's delight. Osset're smiled at Kian who smiled back but let her eyes fasten once again on the child. The boy met her eyes for a moment before dropping them to rest on the forgotten orange. Kian reached out a gentle hand and waited expectantly. Kiinn watched the boy swallow before reaching out his own and letting it rest in hers. She maneuvered the handclasp until her palm was against his wrist and his against hers then she let go.

"I am Kian, child." She waited until green eyes peeked up to look at her before she smiled. "What is your name, little master?"

The boy's eyes widened at the address and he flushed and smiled back. "Harry."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Harry." Her soft, grey eyes tracked to his head. "Your head hurts." The boy gulped and nodded before wincing. Apparently Osset're rather powerful magic had worn off. Kian cocked her head. "Are you dizzy at all, Harry?" The boy hesitated before nodding again. Kian just nodded right back. "Harry," she waited until she had his full attention. "I want to see if you are feverish? May I touch you?" The youngling looked astonished she had asked and Kiinn felt his mate's magic snarl even as he held back his own.

Carefully the boy nodded but Kian waited until he finally caught on. "Yes, Miss Kian, you may t-touch me." Kiinn smelled sadness before she tied it down. Reaching out slowly she put a hand to his forehead. Kiinn smelled a bit of Will, just a touch really, and was glad for Osset're's block on the boy. She had asked to touch him not use magic and if the boy had known all the work Kian had just done would have been wasted.

"**He's been hit and often. Mostly likely more painful things as well. I would guess he's been hurt by magic as there isn't a mark on him but he wouldn't be so resistant to touch if he had. A child expecting to be hurt flinches when touched. A child hurt by magic is usually terrified of every motion made. I just checked for glamor or other disguising magic. There is none but he has been Healed recently and by dark magic as well."**

"**Could that account for scars and such?"** Kiinn was going to kill whomever had done this**.**

"**No. I'm afraid that there would be some scars visible somewhere. There are none. Not even ones that every child receives in the course of play."**

Kiinn looked away to stare out the window. That was suspicious.

"Very good, Harry. You did very well." Kian pulled her hand away and smiled at the boy who flushed and looked down. "Now I have a potion that will make your head stop hurting." She looked at him. "You will need to eat for it to work properly. And some tea will help as well. Do you like tea?"

The boy nodded shyly. He look relieved. Slowly she reached into her robes and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a blue liquid. Kiinn recognized it. He had made it. He wanted to sigh. That a child needed such a powerful potion was infuriating. She handed it to him and he took it gently. Nodding she looked to Osset're. Her eyes narrowed.

"Osset're Li'essha Kiinn you need to eat as well." Osset're started and stared at her. He had never been quiet so long. Surprisingly he didn't say anything. Just nodded and turned back to watching Harry. Kian sighed and looked at Kiinn expectantly. He nodded assuring her he would take care of it. Motioning with his head he told let her know she was through. He followed her to the door.

"**He needs food, rest, and more importantly touch."** Kiinn blinked at the last one**.**

"**Why? He isn't vampire or any other."** Kian frowned at him.

"**Every child needs touch, Lord Kiinn!"** She very nearly snapped at him**. "An abused one even more so. He must learn that touch is good and won't always cause pain. It will also help win his trust."** She eyed him knowingly**. "If you want to keep him, my lord, you must first gain his trust and then his love."**

Kiinn stared at her. It was probably hopeless to try and convince her he wasn't planning on keeping the child. The way both he and his mate hovered was proof enough.

"You have been a wonderful help, Kian, please give your mate my thanks for your time." A small smile played about the corners of her mouth.

"It was my and my mate's pleasure to serve our Lord and Consort. **And future Heir and Lord**." Kiinn's mouth twitched.

Kian turned to go and Kiinn held the door open for her. She hesitated before walking out.

"**You should know, Kiinn,"** She began softly and looked down at her hands**. "Harry has vampire blood somewhere in his lineage."**

Kiinn felt his breath catch in his chest before he forced it out**. "He wasn't bitten?"**

"**No that would have been obvious even if nothing came of it. It must be somewhere in his parent's line." **She looked up to watch him. Softly, gently she watched him. "**I just though you should know. He belongs here. Even if you never turn him."**

With that she left, her robes swirling around her skirts and her gait a bit wobbly with her pregnancy so far along. Closing the door he turned back to watch his mate and the boy. Osset're had somehow maneuvered himself behind the boy and if he was any closer he would have had him in his lap. The elven vampire was whispering an explanation on how to go about drinking the potion and the boy was struggling to pull the top off. Finally he got it and, with a pop that surprised him into jumping, the cork came out. He looked up and meeting Kiinn's eyes smiled sheepishly. Yes Kian was right. The boy belongs here. Harry belongs here. Now all was left to do was convince him.

October 26th

Late Morning

Hylaarr finished his silent conversation with the submissive healer and made his way to the bed. Harry had somehow found himself tucked up closed against Osset're who showed him how to open the bottle with the medicine in it. Harry forgot about it when Hylaarr didn't stop upon reaching the bed but climbed on it and only paused when he was kneeling in front of Harry. Harry's eyes widened when he pulled the little bottle away from him and he frowned in confusion. He didn't think she had found anything but it was possible. He hadn't know vampires could talk without speaking as Hylaarr and Osset're hadn't but then he wouldn't know as he wouldn't have been able to hear now would he? Was he angry now. What had he found out?

"This potion tastes terrible." Harry just stared at him. What?

Hylaarr grinned at him. "I should know, I made it." Harry cocked his head. Is that what he did with all those plants and nasty smelling things? "But I know how to make it taste better." Hylaarr waited as if for Harry to ask." He was too bowled over by Hylaarr's new attitude that he couldn't even reply.

Osset're helped him out. Whispering in his ear he said with a laugh bubbling out, "Things always taste better when someone feeds you." Harry blinked. Did they? He didn't know. No one had ever fed him anything.

Hylaarr held his eyes and looked at him intently. Harry had a feeling that something very important was about to happen. A softly screaming whisper in the back of his mind warned him to be careful but he mentally shook it away.

"May I feed you, Harry?" Said Hylaarr finally and something caught in his throat. He closed his eyes. This was a turning point. From here on out he could either show the trusted them and eventually they would find out he loved them and he had lied and about the Dursleys and everything or he could refuse and they would give up. Not right away but eventually they would have to. "Harry." Hylaarr's voice was insistent. He couldn't think. He opened his eyes to answer the command and fell into Hylaarr's. There was no magic, no spells or hypnotic gaze like in the stories. He was simply in love. Not like Osset're was with his mate but he had always loved Hylaarr and now he knew exactly what it meant.

"I-" He licked his lips and started again. "I can do it myself." He felt dizzy. Hylaarr's eyes narrowed and he felt Osset're deflate behind him. When had the elven vampire become a pillow? Harry dropped his eyes and waited. For them to pull away. For them to start talking about where he would go now. For them to maybe hit him now that they knew he wasn't anyone worth their time.

"Harry," There was that command again. Harry breathed out and opened his eyes a bit. "Harry, child, I'm afraid you have no choice." Harry's eyes abruptly snapped open as Hylaarr started forward. He jerked back and found himself against Osset're whose arms came around him and began whispering in his ear.

"It's alright, child, I have you. It will be okay." Harry gasped. They were too close. Why were they touching him? He was trapped. Osset're hummed and Hylaarr took his chin in a gently hand.

"Breathe, Harry. In and out. You are safe. We will not hurt you." Harry couldn't help but follow those commands from the Dominant and felt himself relaxing. The dizzy feeling went away. Once he could lock his eyes with Hylaarr's again Hylaarr brought up the bottle and poured it into his mouth without warning or fanfare. He was forced to swallow. He never even contemplated spitting it out.

It was horrible. It smelled and burned and ran down his throat like thick water. Harry gagged but Hylaarr was already offering a sip of something which Harry drank gratefully. Osset're was holding him tight and it wasn't until he leaned back into him more fully that he felt him trembling. Worried he touched a hand that was clutched around his middle and felt long fingers grasp his tightly before relaxing a bit. Osset're had buried his face in Harry's neck, a hard thing to do as Harry was so small, and he made odd noises behind him. Harry looked at Hylaarr who was frowning at his mate.

"Osset're! Breathe. Now." Harry felt him suck in a breath and then blow it out in a huff. Then do it again. The air brushed the hair against his neck and tickled it. He really wished he knew what had just happened and what was going on with Osset're now.

Finally Hylaarr reached out and wound his hand into Osset's hair. The elven stopped trembling immediately and relaxed against Harry still hugging him to him like a teddy bear. He moved his face a bit so his voice wouldn't be muffled against Harry's hair.

"Why did you do that!" Hylaarr froze at his tone and his eyes narrowed. Harry wanted to snort. They were going to argue again.

"WHY would you DO something like that!" Osset're spoke in the vampire language now and he was spitting mad. "HE's A Child! He's not even vampire. He's a mortal child and needs someone to trust and he was just beginning to! You can't ask a child something and then refuse when they don't do what you want! You and your little mindchats with Kian, which you know I hate because I can't MINDSPEAK and finding out things and not telling me before you do WHATEVER it is you did, which by the way I DON"T approve of if you'll recall the first time you forced ME to do what YOU wanted. I was a Wreck for days. It set us back weeks!!You--"

"This is not about you, Osset're!" Hylaarr snapped and yelled that bit at his mate which shut of the panicked tirade. Hylaarr switched back to English and his eyes went back to Harry. "This is about, Harry, and what he thinks." His grip in Osset're hair tightened and Harry felt Osset tense then relax.

"Harry." Hylaarr's command drew his attention back to him. "We will not abandon you!" This was said so fiercely Hylaarr was practically growling. "You may not want to stay here but you will not be able to do anything that will make us give you up or send you away. Do you understand?" Harry stared at Hylaarr. Apparently he wasn't as good a liar as he thought. He felt strangely glad about that.

"Oh, Harry." Sighed Osset're and tightened his arms which were still wrapped securely around Harry's middle. "Is that what you thought? Why you refused?" He switched to elven and muttered something about being surrounded by idiots who never told him anything. Harry had to work very hard to keep a straight face. Hylaarr just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Harry child, I do believe its time for you," He glanced at his mate, " And Osset're to eat." He raised an eyebrow. "You've seen how he acts when he hasn't." Harry snorted out a laugh and leaned back even more into Osset're. He thought about moving but he was comfortable and Osset're seemed to need the contact anyway.

"Okay, Hylaarr." He whispered and smiled at the pleasure in the vampire Lord's eyes. He really would have to use Hylaarr's name more often. For some reason it made him so happy.

**So how was it? Probably horrible. I had a hard time coming up with things to put in this chapter and it ended up moving at one of those meandering paces some stories do. Your all lucky I finished though. I've grand plans for the next one. Your lucky I'm so tired or I would have finished this off with a cliff hanger. **

**So Who Loves Severus. Been reading stories with him in it lately. I'm so mad this story is so slow. I miss him. One day I'm going to get to the chapters with him in in and complain about how I'm rubbish at doing his character justice. Ha. We all want what we can't have, ya know.**

**Falling asleep when I should be waking up.**

**Fiful**

Haver: Speak nonsense, normally associated with senility.

Caliach: Gaelic for old woman. Normally used in front of the woman's name i.e. Caliach Stewart.

Boughin': Filthy, revolting, ugly, vomit inducing.


	7. Chapter 7

**( Fitful tosses note cards in The Bag. The hand writing is horrible, worse then chicken scratch, and all you can read is the title on the first one. _The Secret of When Hylaarr and Osset're Find Out Harry/Saith is Their Son. _Looking over her shoulder and glancing around suspiciously she quickly ties it shut and throws it in a lock box and spins the combination to random numbers. Laughing evilly she puts it in a waterproof crate and wraps heavy chains around it before attaching an anchor to it as well. Then, with some effort as its heavy now, she lifts it and pushes it overboard. The waves swallow it without a sound and all that can be heard is the evil cackles of the insane author. Pleased she turns the boat towards shore, some three days away, and casually puts a hand in her pocket. In horror she takes out a forgotten note card and the writing on this one is legible. _Note to self: Harry won't reveal he's their son until 5__th__ year at the latest. _With a gasp Fitful tears it up into a million pieces then eats them swallowing hastily. Still nervous, she heads home in a different direction adding five days to her journey.) **

**Everyone say thanks to Oirarana who has offered to tackle this beast and is now my Beta!! Oirarana gets chocolate and kisses and a free ticket to... WHAT were did that ticket go?(Fitful searches frantically but finds only a part of ripped ticket with **_**Scantily Clad**_**, and **_**Rippling Pectorals **_**in unfinished sentences.) Err... yeah. LOTS of chocolate for Oirarana!! **

**Anyway also thanks to Critters who has let me bounce ideas off her and beg for words when their stuck on the tip of my tongue despite her own novel in process and a bratling being a royal pest 24/7. Oh yeah, Critters gets chocolate too. **

**Oh all the info is true, taken from Wikipedia, and is NOT mine though it is my favorite game!! Osset're is lying about the whole thing. Or he would be if he were real and not a character in a fanfiction. **

**As it is here you go. You've been patient and now indulge. **

October 26th

Early Afternoon.

The single black round stone hesitated above the square jade surface before setting down with a distinctive snap. The white stone beside it glowed and the surface blurred before turning black. Osset're smirked at his mate and moved a white stone without even looking at the board. The black stone Hylaarr had just put down immediately glowed before turning white along with three others. Osset're grinned showing teeth and motioned for his mate to move again.

Harry watched in fascination as the game progressed. It had started out with four stones placed on the jade marble in a square, black and white alternating. Hylaarr had moved first as apparently black was supposed to do. His added stone had been placed in front of a white one, trapping it between his two black stones and captured it turning it black. Osset're was clearly the master here and had been quick to follow. It was only a matter of minutes before the jade board was covered in black and white stones, white clearly winning as more white stones were apparent and had moved into corners with no way of removing them.

"What is this, Osset're?" Harry finally dared to ask. He hoped it wasn't something he should be familiar with but his curiosity was too great to hold back.

Osset're grinned at him. "Albh and Alfr, or Elves and Dwarves if you prefer the mortal terminology."

Hylaarr snorted. "It's called Reversi. Invented in the 1880s by Lewis Waterman and John Mollett. It was based on the game 'Go Bang' or the ancient Japanese strategy game 'Go'. The modern rules originated in Japan in the 1970s. The game was renamed Othello, after the Shakespearean play _Othello, the Moor of Venice_ and marked by James R. Becker who also coined the tagline 'A Minute to Learn... A Lifetime to Master'." He studied the board before moving. The black stone he laid down captured three white ones and which glowed and turned black.

Osset're hissed. "Mortals invented it, my ass! This is an ancient game created millions of years before this realm ever came into existence. It is a story of the separation of the old race into two warring factions who could not decide together which to follow, light or dark and finally split to form different races entirely that to this day remain locked in eternal war!" He said this quite dramatically and waited as if for applause when finished. Upon receiving none Osset're sniffed at his mate who was studying the board. "Mortals merely stole the idea and adapted it to the mundane unpopular existence it holds today." His eyes narrowed at his mate who appeared to be ignoring him. "Hylaarr is just upset because he never wins."

Hylaarr snorted again. "I am not fond of this game. Chess is more strategically sound." He placed a black stone on the board.

Osset're squeaked in horror and threw the white stone he held at Hylaarr's head. Hylaarr moved a bit to avoid it and smirked at his mate. Osset're hissed at him and Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped.

Both vampires turned to smile at Harry before Hylaarr attacked his mate and upset the game board, the jade falling to clatter to the marble floor and the stones falling to scatter in all directions. Hylaarr had Osset're pinned to the floor before he could even sputter and, holding him down, proceeded to tickle him into submission. Osset're's laughter rang out like wind-chimes throughout the room and Harry couldn't stop his grin. They were such good company! Much better than the Dursleys.

The thought of the Dursleys had his mood darkening. However much he did or did not want to be here the reality was that this was a dream. It hurt to acknowledge that but it was necessary. He was beginning to forget that after only half a day of basking in the two vampire's attention. He had to remember that as soon as he recovered from that spell he would wake up. He would be back at the Dursleys and there would be hell to pay for the many horrors that happened the day before.

Magic. The Dursleys knew he had magic. They had been aware all these years and beat him for it because he wasn't a mage and it was against the law for him to use it. Harry swallowed and frowned, he found he was angry. Not because of the abuse, no he knew he deserved that, but because they hadn't told him! How could they not tell him! If he had known he wouldn't have... But he wasn't sure. Despite that they obviously hated magic and that Harry had it when he wasn't supposed to must make it that hatred all the stronger. Not to mention they hated his parents for an unknown reason. Perhaps it was because they were thieves and liars and drank too much too often. Or perhaps that wasn't true? Harry was never sure what to believe when it came to the Dursleys.

Whatever was true, they had loved him. They had loved him and protected him from a dark mage and died for it. What had the tall mage said? Oh yes. A prophesy. The dark mage had wanted to kill him because of a prophesy that said he would kill him. Harry swallowed with difficulty; a prophesy was a telling of the future. Harry knew this because Dudley had once watched a movie with something like that in it before Petunia had seen it and become horrified of the magic in it and turned it off.

How horrible. It had been foretold he would kill the dark mage. That he would kill. Harry stopped breathing. Killing was bad. It was the most horrible thing anyone could ever do. The Dursleys had taught him that. He remembered many 'lessons' in that and know he knew why. It couldn't be possible. He wasn't supposed to kill anyone! He couldn't. He...

"Harry." Hylaarr's voice had him looking his way in acknowledgment but he didn't really see him. The vampire lord knelt in front of him and took his face gently in his hands. "Harry breathe." Realizing he wasn't he took a deep breath and breathed out harshly. Then to escape the worried duel-colored eyes he buried his face in the hollow beneath Hylaarr chin.

_He most definitely deserved everything the Dursley's had done to him. He deserved anything they would do._

That thought was foremost in is mind. He breathed in Hylaarr's scent, absently taking comfort from the familiar source.

_Hylaarr and Osset're could never find out about the Dursleys._

He had made this vow before but somehow it was more important now. Osset're had come around to hug him from behind. He didn't even acknowledge that.

_Somehow he would have to go back. _

That was easily taken care of. He merely would have to wake up. The trick was to make sure the vampires didn't stop him.

_He would have to stop using magic. _

That meant at all. Not healing, not tricks, not anything. Even if it meant the abuse might be discovered. Harry frowned. He wasn't sure about that. Which was more important?

"Harry," said Hylaarr quietly, disturbing his thoughts. "Tell us about your parents." What? Harry was startled. He didn't know anything about his parents. What could he tell? Should he lie? He might get caught in one of those.

"They loved me." He whispered softly. Slowly. It was impossible to make anything up. The truth of their death was to fresh. To raw. It made his skin itch and heart hurt and eyes feel like he's been crying even though they were dry.

"When they died, they did everything they could to protect me. They died protecting me." His breath hitched.

"It wasn't your fault, child." Yes it was. Hylaarr whispered in his ear. "They did what any parent would do. Do not ever blame yourself." That felt like an order and Harry struggled against it. They didn't know. Harry had lied and they didn't know the truth. What would they think if they did. Would they hate him? Would they blame him? Would they be so quick to offer their love if they knew?

"Harry, child." Osset're brushed his hair behind his ear. It was long enough to do that but Harry had never dared because of the scars. "We know you loved your parents. But if we ask you something will you tell us the truth?"

Harry froze before relaxing quickly. "Yes." No.

Hylaarr spoke next. "Did they ever hurt you? Perhaps as a punishment? Taking away food for instance." Harry could here it in his voice. He spoke as if he was certain they had. Apparently his story of the orphanage hadn't held up under Kian's skilled eye. Harry was tired. Tired of hiding, of defending his punishments, and of everyone not understanding. The little whisper told him that he had never explained but he whispered back that he wasn't allowed to.

"I don't remember." He knew they would know he was lying. It was painfully obvious. But he just couldn't deal with it now. Perhaps they would let it go for the time being. He could come up with a convincing story later.

Hylaarr sighed. Harry felt the rise and fall of his chest and nearly felt the disappointment seep from Hylaarr into him. That hurt and he pulled away, out of their loose embrace. Standing he looked at the game pieced still strewn across the floor. Forcing a bright smile he looked at Osset're ignoring the concerned and frustrated look on his face.

"Will you teach me, Osset're?" It was the name that did it. Osset're brightened at it and Harry sighed in relief. He couldn't believe how such a simple thing as a name could so affect the vampires.

Osset're brushed aside the past few minutes and smiled secretly at Harry. "Of course I will, Harry. I know you will love it! Hylaarr is just a snob." With a wave of his hand he collected the fallen stones and the jade square. The pieces neatly aligned themselves in to piles on either side and four went to the middle to form a black and white square.

Harry grinned back, both at the magic and Osset're's comment. Slyly he looked at Hylaarr out the corner of his eye. "Prat is a good word."

Osset're's eyes widened and a wicked light lit his eyes. "I had forgotten that one." He smirked at his mate who narrowed his eyes at the elf warningly. Osset're ignored him. "Hylaarr is quite the prat." His accent distorted the English and made Harry giggle. Hylaarr sniffed and pretended to ignore them.

After Osset're had explained the rules in a rather authoritative way and the game had started Harry heard Hylaarr mutter, "Poncy git."

Osset're heard it as well because he glared at his mate before making a show of ignoring him. Harry laughed at them and but down a black stone on the jade board.

October 26th

Afternoon.

Osset're loved Harry. He had known it from the first moment he saw him. He had watched the small child shaking and trembling and sobbing in terrible grief and the world had fallen away. In that moment there was only darkness and Hylaarr and Harry. And he had known he loved him more than his life, more than his eternity.

Harry was very quiet. He would hold still quite often, like a mouse, as if he were still long enough everyone would forget and he could disappear and life would go on without him. His eyes looked down more often than not, in respect, in timidity, in avoidance...

When he spoke it was almost apologetically. His voice was quiet, like a whisper, like the breeze, like the breathing of the world when it was night and everything slept.

He shied away from touches, flinched at sudden movements.

He watched everything, and listened to every word, and saw more in a single movement then Osset're could ever read in an entire book, though admittedly Osset're hated books and avoided reading them unless they had spells, or were about magic, or were Japanese, or were a romance because Osset're had a soft spot for a good romance...

He lied often. Osset're could tell because Harry always took a deep breath before each lie as if bracing himself for the reaction to it and he would hold still and his eyes would stare at you, watching you for any sign of anger, as if he could tell before he went to far in the lie and change it. Or he would look down and doggedly plod on, simply ignoring the fact that anyone was listening to the lie although you knew he knew that the person he was telling it to was listening avidly...

He acted as if no one had ever or could ever love him and the idea was so absurd it was laughable in the hysterical I'm-going insane-and-so-is-everyone-else 'Do you want to come along?' kind of way.

He was shocked at anything given to him, or anything done for him, or any positive emotion directed to him, or by the fact that he had magic as if there wasn't a way in the entire realms that he could have been given that gift.

Despite the horrible, obviously-result-of-abuse, evidence in his behavior Osset're loved all of this.

Loved every bit of anything that made this child into the person he was now. Even if he hated the abuse with the passion he reserved for hating Daemons, and the color brown, and fish, and the muck in the bottom of the sink after you washed the dishes. Oh, and politicians, and Dwarves, and hypocrites, and reporters, and macaroni and cheese. Not to mention those shrieking alarm clocks Hylaarr was so fond of, and his mother when she was lecturing him for his arrogance when she had no right as she was by far more arrogant than him. Oh, and evil bitch sorceresses that tried to steal his mate. Oh yes. He hated the abuse and abusers far more than all that.

He loved every odd quirk of this child's personality, character, mind, and soul.

He loved Harry.

He loved it when Harry laughed; a sound like ferrets laughing and birds chuckling and leaves falling and waterfalls. He loved it when he smiled; brilliant as a thousand stars and bumbling fireflies and willow the wisps. He loved the boy's eyes; like the heart of jade or the clashing of emeralds or the dark grass at the base of evergreens or basil.

He loved it most when the child said his name. Nothing could compare. Unless he were to call him Papa, or Pater, or Pappi, or Baba, or Abbah. Or even Da.

Finding this child was like finding a lily among the stars. Harry was beautiful and alien in comparison to himself. All dark and quiet like Osset're was _not. _He was like a secret and lie. Something you keep and never tell anyone about. He was the truth shouted for all the realms to hear. Osset're could barely restrain himself from doing just that and announcing to the Gods that this child was _his_. He was magic; dark and enthralling; bright and precious. Osset're could feel the child bewitching him, glittering like water in the desert. He was a necromancer's song and a fairy's dust.

And Osset're was completely taken with him. In only a few moments a single child had taken up residence in his heart beside his mate and lifebonded and he knew if he had lost him it would have broken him completely.

And if Hylaarr had killed the child as he originally planned Osset're knew he would have died as well. That very fact alone is what held his tongue and forced him not to protest his mate's intentions. He had spitefully thought if Hylaarr, in his obsessive paranoia had killed an innocent and helpless child and his mate died as well, from heartbreak and shock and the thrice damned stubbornness he was always harping on about, it would serve him right...

But secretly he had known Hylaarr couldn't kill the child. How he knew he didn't question. Perhaps it was the same thing that told him to step in front of a deadly curse just because it would make his lifebonded _finally_ Embrace him. Perhaps it was his magic. Perhaps he had a touch of the Sight along with everything else.

Whatever it was it was Osset're was proven right. Hylaarr couldn't kill a defenseless child. Osset're knew his mate. Hylaarr had argued himself into finding a reason to spare the boy. It was no small relief that the child had proven to be no threat and Osset're breathed a prayer to the Gods that he never was. Even if it never proved serious Hylaarr would gloat endlessly about the fact that he had been right.

Osset're had trembled when those green eyes met his. The child had been full of grief and pain and a wailing of despair. And he had met his eyes and Osset're had seen love. The child had loved him, immediately, before he had done anything. And Osset're Li'essha Kiinn Prince of the Elven, once the Heir Apparent to the throne of The Seven Realms and The Light Realms, now Consort to The Crescent Clan and The Blood Lands and mate and lifebonded to Hylaarr Silvereyes Moonrun Somus Kiinn, had been humbled.

He had opened his arms and taken the child in them and promised, in elven and silently to himself, that he would keep the child safe. His child...his son. And that hollow in his heart that had been there for eight years had been filled. When his mate had held the boy and they had rocked him and Hylaarr had whispered that it would be okay he had known that the child was theirs. They would keep him. Damn anyone to the little hells should they dare take him away.

When Hylaarr had returned from his chat with Seren, and had told him that the boy was destined to take his place as Lord, he had wanted to crow in triumph. He had restrained himself, content that he could gloat later. He had curled up with his mate and had just watched the child sleep. He had made fantastic plans about adoption and teaching him magic and finally having someone to gang up on Hylaarr with.

But when the child awoke his plans faded in wake of the boy's need. He had moaned in pain and Osset're's heart had twisted. His fingers ran through wild hair and fell away in shock when the child jerked and backed away to the far edge of the bed, and had held himself so still for the longest time.

Hylaarr had gripped his right wrist tightly between them where the child couldn't see. Osset're hadn't moved but he had wanted to.

His name was Harry. A part of Osset're whispered that that wasn't right but he had pushed it away. Now was crucial. He had to prove to his mate the child was no threat. He would do anything to do so.

Harry had smelled of fear, worry and fear and pain and shock, and of longing and disappointment. Osset're couldn't help but reassure him. He was safe. He would be safe as long as Osset're still drew breath and had magic and could make it so.

There had been no reaction to their names. Osset're had breathed in relief and felt his mate relax ever so slightly. The boy had reacted to the mention of magic. Hylaarr had relaxed further when faced with the boy's fright. Poor Harry. Poor child. It was obvious he had been exposed to magic but he feared it. Feared to use it and feared the consequences of doing so. Why? Who had hurt him? Who would dare.

Harry had magic. They had known that, the block he had put on him then was still there. Hylaarr hadn't said he could take it off yet. And as angry as he had been to learn of the attack and the spell he had been proud of his... of Harry for using it to protect himself. Oh the boy had lied about most of it. That had been obvious. Any vampire would have been able to tell, but the truth had been enough to raise hackles and garner sympathy.

Osset're had moved towards him and he had flinched. That had hurt. He wouldn't hurt him, never any child, but more never _Harry._

Hylaarr had moved closer and brought up what they had been waiting for, longing to know. Osset're had been tense and held his breath in fear . But it had proven unfounded. Harry's parents had died and he had run away from an orphanage. An _orphanage._ Humans were so horrible, they put children in strange houses with a million others and no one to really care for them, and most just stayed until full grown. It was all he could do to prevent himself from hissing his rage. Hylaarr touched Harry's shoulder, ignoring his flinch even though Osset're couldn't help but freeze at it.

When Osset're hadn't been able to restrain himself he had moved again and asked. "Let us adopt you?" The poor child had been blown away.

"I-I'm not anything!" Harry had said. It had broken Osset're's heart.

Harry had jerked away and protested and finally grown silent and huddled in on himself and started to cry. Osset're hadn't been able to stop himself and luckily, for his mate, Hylaarr hadn't stopped him either. Again they had held the child as he cried. And he had felt his mate's caution and fears and paranoia slip away.

But mentioning vampires was a mistake. He had been too hasty. He should have let his mate handle it.

Harry hated vampires.

Or so he had said. It didn't ring quiet true but then most everything the boy said was a muck of lies and truth. He had been afraid and they had hesitated to push. His parents had been killed by vampires. They would have to be very careful with this child.

But when he had collapsed into tears again nothing could have stop them from comforting him. Once he was asleep Hylaarr had pulled them up to the head of them bed, Harry positioned snugly in between them and they had slept. It had been the best night of sleep he had gotten in quite a long time. His heart was whole and he refused to question it.

Hylaarr had pulled Osset're out of bed and to the kitchens when they woke up this morning. Frantic to get back to the child he had gone a little crazy and ordered the vampires to add a little of everything that had been prepared and then found some of his personal favorites and some of Hylaarr's and had them cooked and added them as well. Hylaarr had been amused but when they had everything ready he had _ordered _him to stop and proceeded to snog him breathless for a good fifteen minutes before Osset're was able to skitter away. Back to Harry.

Admittedly he had needed that. Damned Dominant's always knew.

The child acted as if he had never had toast before. Hylaarr's scent was of rage and it dawned on Osset're that maybe he hadn't. When the child's magic had flared beneath the bindings and dark magic had raised it's ugly face and he had clutched his head and the smell of pain had filled the room and nearly overwhelmed the two vampires, Osset're had barely been able to force it back and take the pain away. The child was frightfully powerful. Osset're had been, still was, very worried; he would never be as powerful as Osset're but he would be quite close. He really ought to be turned. When he was old enough to take a mate it would help tremendously in controlling it.

The poor child had apologized. Osset're could feel his mate longing to rip someone apart. Then the boy had realized how close he was to him and jerked away and fell off the bed. If he hadn't been so worried, if it hadn't had been because of fear, if it hadn't had been _Harry_ he would have laughed. The boy looked so bewildered to find himself so far down.

When Hylaarr gave the blood oath the boy had been nearly as astonished as Osset're and that was without knowing what it meant. Osset're knew well though, it meant if any harm came to the child, by Hylaarr or the hand of anyone Hylaarr called kin Hylaarr and Osset're would feel it threefold.

That Hylaarr could change his mind so quickly was one of the reasons Osset're loved him. His mate was quick to admit his mistakes and correct them, when he decided to do something it was done with the utmost of his ability. That Hylaarr could go so quickly from plans to kill a child who might prove a threat to his mate to such a vowing such a formal oath with what could be rather dire consequences was not only stunning but amusing as well.

When Kian came Osset're took advantage of the boy's distraction. He had been worried about meeting another vampire, a healer, and it had shown in his scent. He blew hot and cold between worry and panic and forced calm and then panic again. Osset're had distracted him with an orange. The boy didn't know what to do with it, but Osset're helped him, showing him how to peel it and separate the parts. When he took his first bite Osset're could taste his wonder and soon after the scent of hatred from the vampire's in the room. Hylaarr and Kian had been watching and both had been enraged.

Osset're had been beyond rage. Anger had licked at his control like a Fury. Indeed images of Furies made of fire had danced in the air. He had been careful to keep them hidden from Harry.

Hylaarr had kept up a steady chatter with Kian in mindspeach the entire time she looked the boy over. Osset're hadn't been able to object, he was so worried about the boy. He had been relieved when she finally gave him a potion, somehow Osset're had gotten close to the boy without him protesting. Being so close Osset're could smell it when the pain came back, despite his magic's healing.

When Hylaarr had seen Kian out he had smelled Hylaarr's determination. His mate had approached the bed with a distinctly Dominant air and Osset're had tensed involuntarily. He knew Hylaarr and what he had been about to do. A part of him, the submissive part that acknowledged Harry as his, was relieved but another part of had wanted to scream at Hylaarr. Harry was just a child. An abused child. A human child. He wouldn't react well to being forced to submit.

But he had been wrong. Again.

Hylaarr had grinned at Harry and teased him about the taste of the potion. Osset're had relaxed a bit and helped with a laugh. It was an old joke between them.

"Things always taste better when someone feeds you." Harry had blinked in bemusement.

Then it had come, the single most important aspect of being a submissive. Trust.

"May I feed you, Harry?" Hylaarr had asked if Harry could trust him.

They both had known what he would say but it didn't stop them from hoping. Watching as the child closed his eyes Osset're had held his breath.

At the very least the child had been polite in his refusal.

But when poor Harry, the poor child, and dropped his eyes and just waited Osset're had wanted to cry. He knew what was coming next and every inch of him disapproved.

"Harry," A command. "Harry, child, I'm afraid you have no choice." Harry's eyes had abruptly snapped open as Hylaarr started forward. He had jerked back and found himself against Osset're whose arms came around him and began whispering in his ear.

"It's alright, child, I have you. It will be okay." We would never hurt you child, you are safe. The boy had been panicked and Osset're had felt every breath that expelled itself harshly from his chest and then was sucked back in a desperate attempt to get enough air.

"Breathe, Harry. In and out. You are safe. We will not hurt you."

And Harry had reacted to those orders, the first time he was forced to submit, far better than Osset're ever had. He had been wrong. Harry was a Submissive. It was radical and horrible and was obviously the result of abuse. Poor child. Poor mortal child.

He loved the way Harry smelled, of saplings, and dewdrops, and summertime moonlight.

Harry was the sweetest child Osset're had ever met. Polite, respectful even as a human mortal and desperately starved for positive affection.

But he was a Submissive.

Osset're shuddered to think of how that had developed. Child abuse was unheard of among the elven. The average elven pair was considered god-touched to conceive once a decade. Children were infinitely precious and jealously guarded. Indeed an elfling wasn't considered capable of fending for themselves until they had seen a least 50 Springs. The young elfling Osset're had been horrified and heartbroken and enraged and determined to help fix it when he had learned how short the human lifespan actually was.

Osset're had been born into the elven royal line. Indeed his mother was the elven queen. Not just the elven queen but Queen of The Seven Realms and The Light Realm and The Willow Forest.

As an elven prince, one of many in direct line for the throne, Osset're had led a quiet sheltered life hidden in the heart of the palace. Although his mother birthed a dozen elflings in her 400 years on the throne, the elder were full grown, and annoyingly haughty about their lofty age and experience and supposed wisdom, and the younger too small to be considered company.

Osset're had been raised by servants and teachers and once it had become know he was an adept level mage, the best Masters as well. He had been buried under books, and lectures, and lessons, and apprenticed to Master after Master, each one obsessively determined to teach 'the princeling' every drop of knowledge they had.

Osset're had learned everything they offered and much they didn't. He had soaked in knowledge greedily sure it was only his right to learn it. He had been powerful and justifiably arrogant.

By the time Osset're was twenty he was hailed a prodigy by the Seven Realms and every member of the Seven Realms knew his name. His status had been raised to Heir Apparent, by-passing the eight older siblings he had along with his every powerful relation to the royal line still living. The elven race was built on magic power. Those who had magic were numerous. Those who had it in spades were rare.

Whenever an elfling with abnormal power turned up they were hurriedly paired off with another powerful elfling and encouraged to start a line of magic wielding littles. The royal line had started that way thousands of years ago when the powerful potential heirs started turning up stupid and unhealthy and ugly and irritating due to inbreeding. It was soon put to right when it started pairing its children with other powerful elven lines. Now it was an unspoken law that only every third generation was to marry within The Light Realm.

When Osset're was appointed Heir Apparent he was called to appear before the throne. The Queen and her advisors, and his elder siblings and their mates, and the other Realm's Lords and Ladies, and well anyone who was powerful enough had been there. He, of course, had performed the ritual to perfection.

As well as learning all of his Master's lessons in magic he had absorbed the other lessons with envious ease. There hadn't been a single elf who spoke against the ritual.

His mother had disapproved. She never said anything to that effect but Osset're had learned to read people. His magic happily told him what he couldn't discern for himself.

She disapproved of his arrogance.

It was the fifth time in his life he had even seen his mother, Smaal're Li'essha. Queen of the Seven Elven Realms, Queen of the Light Realm, called the Dragonfly Queen. Osset're had become known as the Firefly Prince soon after that, a name that his siblings teased him about to this day.

From that day on Osset're was more accessible to the public but even more heavily guarded. He had loudly complained about that as he maintained he could fend for himself against any attack and he was one of the most powerful mages in The Seven Realms and he was loved by all. No one would dare.

But that precaution was soon proven justified as once the Realms heard how powerful the future heir to the elven throne was many attempts were made to see to it he didn't reach the full age mark. Assassination plots abounded and Osset're had been forced to grow up a little more. He could recall the moments when that happened.

When he had been captured by Addith'il Vi'eena and tortured until he agreed to pair with her and give her mage elflings. When a rival mage had held his 13 year old sister over the heart of the forest and dueled him, breaking his heart every time he threatened to drop her and did drop her and caught her again only to continue the duel. When a dark sorcerer had attacked him with Daemons; snarling bits of shadow and pain and death, which ate at his magic's light and poisoned the air and killed his best friend, Saedor'us. When the Dwarves had attacked the palace and succeeded in killing nearly two hundred full grown elven and the vicious battle had left the walls dripping with blood and his siblings numb with shock and his mother finally grateful for his mage gift and skill in wielding it.

Magic wielders of every order and practice flocked to meet him. Mages and Sorcerers and Magicians; Necromancers and Elementals. The God-Touched and even the odd wizard or two. Some just came to gawk at the powerful elfling, and Osset're had let them, used to having his arrogance and vanity and beauty on display. Whenever they become too obsessive and annoying him he simply flexed his magic and sent them away.

Images of their worst fears had been easy to pull out of their unguarded minds and paraded before their eyes. He wasn't fond of intruding in other minds after that though. People's thoughts were just too ordered, or chaotic, or simply stupid, or shallow, or disgusting enough to make him sick up after viewing. and he had lost his taste for it quite soon and to this day refused unless it was dire emergency.

Others came to teach and learn and those he greeted warmly and welcome them perhaps too trustingly. Experience and years taught him to be wary. He made even more progress in his studies and lost a bit of his optimism and continued to mature.

By age 36 he had completed his studies. Every master proclaimed they could teach him nothing further and left him to his mother's whims. As it happened she felt him capable of braving The Human Realms. Or so she said.

"Prince Osset're." Violet eyes, the same color as his, seemed so cold from her high perch on the throne.

" We require your unique expertise.The half-blood Malic Drr'Vaiise refuses to present himself. You will retrieve him."

Unacknowledged was the challenge and smug certainty he would flee home, his arrogant countenance much curtailed and his ego painfully deflated and his tail tucked between his legs like a dog. He had sneered disdainfully at the image. He had been determined to prove her wrong.

The Human Realm was dull. The colors seemed muted and the sound struggled to be heard as if the entire world was underwater. Osset're had tried to remain optimistic but the spoiled prince him sneered at everything. The dirt was heavy, the smells harsh, the light unattractive in it's limited hues. He had blanched at his first sight of a magicless, mortal human.

The tall man had appeared full grown. Indeed he looked nearly a hundred summers at least but Osset're had learned to his astonishment he was merely 36. The same age Osset're had been at the time. Tilting his head back to stare at the human Osset're had to use magic to insure he wasn't lying. When it proved the human's words true he had told him hoping to impress or inspire an amusing reaction.

The human _had_ reacted. He had laughed at him.

"Ha! Good joke, kid! You keep telling yourself that, though I don't think the ladies will believe it."

The rest of his visit hadn't gone as well as he had been hoping. He had been attacked and kidnapped _by_ Drr'Vaiise and had escaped but been stranded in The Human Realms and then he had met Hylaarr who had been stubborn and refused to acknowledge the lifebond and he had had to chase him across half the Americas and still had to seduce him, after dozen failed attempts, before he would take him as his mate and then the vampire had had the nerve to refuse to turn him.

Too young he had said. Osset're snorted at the memory but then changed his mind. He had been dreadfully young. An elf at 36 looks no older than 13 to humans. Poor Hylaarr.

It had opened the mageling's eyes. He had realized how privileged he was to be Elven. In The Elven Realms he had the luxury of spending half a century maturing and enjoying his childhood. Humans didn't have that. Their world was too harsh, unforgiving, and sadly mundane. Any magic was hidden and horded jealously. There was no unity, no peace, no leisure. Humans lived fast.

Osset're privately thought they lived so fast they burnt themselves out before nature would have done so but held his tongue. Osset're soon learned that this realm had its appeal too. The pace was soon infectious, and as Osset're was naturally a vibrant, kinetic person he fit right in. Well. After applying a glamour to his hair.

Laughter drew his attention and Osset're smiled to see Harry laughing at his mate. The two were investigating Hylaarr's Garden, as Osset're liked to call it. His mate was insanely obsessed with growing things and smelly things and bits of the insides of things. The elven part of him approved of the growing things but personally Osset're didn't like it. He didn't like messes. Hylaarr gave a quiet instruction and Harry complied without hesitation. Osset're sighed.

The child was so submissive.

The Elven Realms were extensive and varied, and the Elves who inhabited them a beautiful and eternal race. They too followed along the lines of Dominant and Submissive relations but not as obsessively as the Crescent clan did. Before Hylaarr had turned Osset're he had had partners. Not many, as he had been quiet young, but a few. The Elven weren't as stuffy as humans in regards to carnal pleasures and encouraged their young to indulge quiet young.

He distinctly recalled being neither solely dominant nor submissive nor leaning towards one or the other as most did, but an aggressive lover when desire reigned as he was in everything. He liked pleasure and being pleasured and indulging in anything that took his fancy and pushing others to enjoy it as well, and then gloating about how he had been right all along, enjoying the consequences of said gloating.

But being Embraced changed all that. He could remember when he noticed it the first time; Hylaarr had been curled up on a pillow tucked into the hollow of the tree that made up the center of Osset're's private chambers in the heart of The Willow Forest and he had been lecturing Osset're on the proper conduct of a newly Embraced vampire and what his duties as Consort would entail and Osset're admittedly hadn't been paying attention because he had been watching his mates hands as they gestured and he had been fantasizing about those fingers on him and... hmm ..._ in _him and Hylaarr had casually give an order to come here since he wasn't paying attention.

Up until then if Osset're hadn't seen the need to he wouldn't comply but with that order Osset're had seen Hylaarr as _Dominant_ for the first time. He had felt the Submissive in him uncurl like a cat that had been sleeping for years.

He had felt an overwhelming, obsessive, _need_ to obey.

It had toyed with his emotions. It had told him that if he didn't his Dominant would be angry/sad/disappointed. That he would punish him, and it wouldn't be something he would like and his mate had been lenient up until then and he had better learn to be submissive and Hylaarr might stop loving him if he didn't...

It was that last threat that did it.

He had known the adoration of millions, the admiration of his Masters, the distant affection of his sibling, but never _love_ until Hylaarr. The life bond had become the most important thing in his life once it formed, he could feel Hylaarr through it; his love and his presence and his control, steady like the overgrown elven trees. The threat that it might be taken away was too much.

He had obeyed. He had obeyed the order and once he had, it left; the need, the fears, the power over him. And he hadn't been able to handle it. He had blown up at Hylaarr and spit and raged and literally attacked his mate with the pitiful control of a vampire hours turned and Hylaarr had _slapped _him and grabbed his hair and held him down and forced him to feed. That had been bloody and hadn't worked put well as it had made the young elven mage very mad.

What followed was the worst few months of his life as he adjusted to being a vampire submissive and all that entailed.

But when he had first seen Harry he had felt for the first time what it felt like to be Hylaarr. What he must have felt when Hylaarr first saw _him._ What it felt like to be _Dominant._

Oh the need to dominate wasn't there, but the need to _protect_ took it's place and perhaps was more effective. He felt as if the child was his and he would do anything the keep him safe. There were other needs. To make him happy. To teach him, to keep him. They all made him want to grab the child and hold tightly, never to let go.

He would have to be patient. Osset're was not a patient person but for this child he would be. He could wait, let Harry get to know them, trust them. Osset're was already assured of his love. When the child was ready then he would strike. He would capture Harry, as the child had stolen his heart, and never let go. Glancing at Hylaarr's expression and feeling his emotions through the bond told him that Hylaarr wouldn't object.

October 26th

Afternoon

Harry watched as Hylaarr carefully placed the seedling in the dirt before covering it gently. Then he dipped a rag in the bowl of water beside him and squeezed the water out letting it fall like rain into the little pot.

"Here. Now we add blood." Hylaarr glanced at Harry to be sure he was watching. Then he took a thin silver knife and cut his thumb. The cut was deep and blood welled and spilled out of the skin before running down to the tip and dripping off into the dark soil.

"Our blood, everyone's blood, has magic in it." Hylaarr's voice was quiet and hypnotic. It was the kind a professor would use and Harry wanted to smile but was too caught up in what he was saying. "Even if you can't use magic it is there. Those who can are blessed with more magic in their blood and specific channels that run parallel to the veins so magic can be directed." The blood continued to run from Hylaarr's thumb, dripping and falling like tears. " Certain plants, herbs, and fungi need the concentrated magic in the blood to flourish properly. This one is only ever found on the battlefield, days after the blood has soaked into the ground. It is an ill omen to some, but to many who know how to use it, it has intense healing properties."

Harry watched as Hylaarr pinched his thumb to add pressure and stop the blood flow before bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean. Presenting it to Harry he told him, "Watch." Blinking he watched the cut heal; closing, forming a scab, and finally disappearing all together. The joys of vampire healing.

" How, si-Hylaarr, does it heal so fast?" Harry had seen it before, many times, and had always wished he could do it. It would make life at the Dursleys so much easier. But punishments wouldn't be _punishment _came the whisper and Harry wanted to sigh.

"Vampires, and some other races, can heal very fast because there is so much magic in our blood stream. Humans have those magic channels, and very little actually running in the veins as so they heal at the rate their body allows." His eyes watched Harry very carefully before he picked up the little pot and placed it on the shelf. "Werewolves, for instance, can heal faster than a human but not as fast as most other races."

Harry blinked. "Blood heals!"

A part of him winced for blurting it out like that but he was so amazed. How could blood heal? The magic in blood obviously but did it only heal the person who had it or anyone? Harry bit his lips and looked down. That could really be helpful. If he healed then the punishments wouldn't show; the Dursleys would never get caught. For the first time a part of him ached to be a vampire.

He had never considered it before. It really hadn't occurred to him that anyone would ever want him to be one. But Hylaarr and Osset're did, they had said so when they offered to adopt him. He had been so caught up in everything else he hadn't considered it but now he did. If he were a vampire would everything be easier?

Hylaarr was smiling at him. "Yes child blood heals, vampire blood does a least." He looked at Harry carefully almost wistfully before he turned back to the shelves and picked up a single jar. "Not only does vampire blood heal, but so does the other bodily fluids each to a minor degree. Saliva is strongest just after blood."

Osset're was curled up in a corner of a divan reading. Hylaarr had whispered earlier that Osset're didn't like potions ingredients and he would be fine for a bit. Then he had he had dragged Harry over to the table and shelves set beside the bench Harry always appeared on and started telling him the names of each growing thing he had.

Most of the table resembled a garden of potted plants but the shelves held a myriad of jars, canisters, and bottles. Some were opaque and nothing could be seen of their contents, but others were glass and contained odd solutions with things floating in them, dried other things, and some of what looked to be parts and insides of creatures now long dead. All these were Hylaarr's potions ingredients and Harry had many fond memories of watching him plant seedling, harvest roots and leaves and flowers, while he sat and watched him unseen.

Now Osset're had looked up from his book, catching Harry's eye, and stared at his mate with a wicked smirk.

" Oh, I know, I know!" Hylaarr twitched and winced a bit. Osset're had adopted a high pitched voice like a child in school claiming to know the answer. "I know what bodily fluid_ comes_ next." There was a rather wicked laugh in his voice as well and Harry smothered a grin as he watched Osset're and Hylaarr. He didn't know what the elven vampire meant by that, but he got the impression that he was teasing his mate. Osset're must be feeling a bit left out, he usually did when he hadn't been able to bask in someone's attention in at least ten minutes.

Hylaarr's shoulders shook with laughter but he didn't turn around. "Please keep it to yourself Osset're. There is a child present."

Osset're pouted but Harry could tell he was delighted at Hylaarr's reaction. Muttering something about priggish humans he went back to his reading. Hylaarr ignored him and opened the small jar, pulling out three small blue seeds.

"This is called Night's Bane, Harry." Hylaarr picked up a small pot. "It is essential in..."

Hylaarr's voice suddenly faded and Harry felt a bit dizzy. Harry felt relief. Finally. He could feel the world spinning away just as it always did before he was woke up from these dreams. Finally he was going back. He should have felt only relief but disappointment and fear gripped him as well. He saw Hylaarr look at him sharply and reach for him but Harry backed away. It had better happen fast before, they caught on.

But something was wrong. He didn't fade away immediately as he usually did. His head hurt and he felt as if he were being squished and pulled and frozen in place at the same time. It never happened like this. Something was very wrong. He felt himself falling, gasping at the pain. His head _hurt_ and his skin felt twisted and stretched and pulled apart. Moaning, he let Hylaarr take his weight dimly hearing the vampire lord shout for Osset're.

"Osset're what is happening!" Hylaarr demanded and Harry felt the cool touch of elven magic. The pain was worsening and he could feel the world trying to spin away.

"I-I don't..." Osset're gasped. "Drifting. Hylaarr he's trying to Drift." Hylaarr's hands tightened on Harry and the pain shrieked in his head. He needed to go. Why couldn't he?

"Harry, child, stop." It was an order, Hylaarr's voice was stern but worried. "You must not try to use your magic, Harry. It will only hurt you." What. Why? His thought scattered and he could feel darkness clawing at him but unable to reach him through a ... a wall built around him. A wall built around his magic. Whimpers escaped and finally a moan of pain.

"The block is holding but its hurting him." Osset're was nearly wailing. "Why would he try to leave, Hylaarr!"

Harry struggled to open his eyes. He could barely see through the pain. They had to let him go! They were keeping him here but it was time to wake up. He had to wake up. It hurt so much. Nearly as bad as that spell the mage had used but only in his head. He could feel the magic in his veins, coursing through him, trying to get out. But the wall was built all around him, like a second skin. It held him captive and it hurt.

"Please." He whispered. "Please I have to go." He could nearly feel the distress coming off Osset're in waves and Hylaarr's body tense with that plea. But they had to. It was only a dream. He'd come back. The Dursleys would see to that.

" No." That was Osset're. His voice was hard and final and an _order_ like he had never heard coming from the Submissive before. "No." That was a wail, said like denial and fear and loss and grief. "Please no, Harry."

The pain increased and he felt a scream escape and his body arched as the magic was forced through it and tried to pull him along. The cool touch of Osset're's magic wasn't helping, in fact it was hurting him. He could feel the wall now. His magic beat against it like a caged bird in a panic and he could feel the magic that said it belonged to Osset're. They had built a wall around his magic, they had lied, they didn't want him to use it.

The whisper laughed at him. Perhaps they didn't want you to escape. Perhaps they want to keep you. But the pain gripped him again and the whisper was lost in the back of his mind.

"Osset're." Hylaarr's voice was harsh and full of suppressed pain. "You must remove the block."

Osset're gasped and moaned. "Osset're you must. He's hurting." Hylaarr's voice was like rocks against broken glass.

Hylaarr's eyes locked with Osset're's and they were silent for a long moment. Harry held in the screams hoping they were going to take the block off soon. It wasn't forever. He would be back.

"We'll get him back, Osset're." It was a promise. It would happen.

Well, of course it would.

And finally Osset're moved, his hand touching Harry's forehead, so cool against the heat of the pain and magic. And the wall began to crumble and finally fell away and the furious magic, liquid light so angry it was like liquid frost, was free. It grabbed Harry and he felt himself fade. In that moment he didn't want to go. They wanted him. They loved him. He had tried to prevent it but done a poor job and he was glad. He wanted to stay.

But the magic was insistent and wrapped around him and bore him up on wings of wind and light. The last thing he saw before the darkness was Osset're's violet eyes. They begged him to stay. The last thing he felt was a brush of lips against his head as Hylaarr kissed him goodbye. And then he was gone. And there was only darkness.

**Well Darlins, thats it. I meant to put the Dursley scene in here but you all have been waiting so long. I appreciate all the reviews I've been getting, see my profile for details, and I can't wait to hear how you like Osset're's back story. There's a lot I didn't include but then you all will find out later. **

**Do look forward to the next chapter, some Lucius, some Dumbledore, some Harry. Also Harry discovers a new magical ability. Care to guess? I've very mildly hinted in the last bit there so you probably won't catch it. **

**So I just realized Osset're is a Mary Sue! Think about it. He's incredibly powerful, everyone loves him, and he's annoyingly cheerful or well annoyingly anything. I'll have to dig out my whats-a-Mary-Sue notes but I'm pretty sure I'm right. I'm not self inserting. I'm nothing like Osset're. Hmm. I hate Mary Sues. But I don't want to kill him off or anything! I love Osset're. Any suggestions? There will be a poll on my profile once this chapter is up so please let me know. **

_Beta note: Please make her stop, she doesn't listen to me about him, so it's up to everyone else. (grumbles about overworked, underpaid beta's who get ignored)_

**Poor guy has every right to complain. He doesn't get paid at all. **

**Love you all. Kisses. Hugs. Silk panties for everyone. **

**Fitful**


	8. Chapter 8

**So I'm back. Its been a rather long time. Well I lost my job, moved to California, been busy looking for a job, I got my permit and I'm learning how to drive, I've been doing some wood carving, my computer broke and I had to fix it. DC jack if you know what that is. Have you ever seen the inside of your computer? Its rather scary in there. Now its broken again. The lcd screen this time and cause I don't have a job I don't have the money to buy a new one so I'm using half a computer screen now. Oh and I'm in the Mountains now and barely have Internet. Yeah I have a million excuses but it all comes down to writer's block. Hopefully this chapter will live up the rest of the story. **

**OK lots of flashback/story stuff here. Sorta odd as I hate reading those but they work. Quite a bit of stuff taken from book 6, even some word for word stuff. **

**I'd love your opinion on Dumbledore's character. I'm still not sure if I've captured him correctly or not. Lucius also here quite a bit. I really liked writing him but again I'm not sure if he was suitably Slytherin here. **

**The only warning is an implied rape. Not Harry or anyone still alive so don't worry. Oh and Lucius talks about torture a bit. I really couldn't stop him. Slytherin's ya know.**

* * *

October 26th

Late Afternoon

It felt like he was underwater. His entire body felt heavy and his mind had to convince his body more than once to make even the slightest movement. His thoughts swam and scattered whenever he tried to focus. He could feel himself trying to escape back into the peace of sleep and failing. It was the pain that kept him awake.

He _hurt._

Gasping, Harry fought to open his eyes and finally the barest slits allowed him to see the darkness broken by only a crack of light underneath the door.

He was in the cupboard under the stairs. The Dursleys then. He was back.

He was slumped in a pile on the floor, his limbs numb and without feeling from being forced too close to his body for too long a time. Breathing carefully he searched inside for that cup of liquid light. Finding it boiling in aggravation he breathed carefully and let it slowly seep into him, guiding it along and showing it his aching muscles, then breathing in relief when it attacked the pain and chased it away without further prompting.

Once the pain was gone he let it stay where it was, too tired to usher it back into that cup. He was back. Memories flickered in his mind, as they always did, so fresh it was astonishing they were made of dreams at all, everything was so clear. Sighing he forced them away and sneered at himself. Now was not the time to dwell on dreams.

Murmurs from the other room made him jerk awake before he had realized he was starting to drift off. He could hear Vernon's harsh guttural voice and Petunia's shrill one. They were speaking in hushed whispers that sounded quite distressed despite the fact that Harry could make out nothing substantial. Every so often Vernon would get louder and Petunia would hiss at him until he dropped his volume.

Dudley must be home then. What day was it? What time? His fingers touched soft fabric and he was reminded of the clothes he wore. He had no shirt but the pants were soft and new feeling and not dirty at all. It must not have been very long then. Perhaps it was still the day after.

Gasping with pain he felt around the cupboard floor for his glasses. They were unbroken, as Petunia had removed them before his punishment just like she always did. Finally his fingers brushed against the metal frame and he slowly placed it on his face. It shocked him at how much pain he was in after that small chore. He hadn't thought it had been that bad.

Moaning he forced his mind back to the day before. London. The blond boy. The Punishment. The tall mage. Oh. Now that he remembered perhaps it had been that bad. The Punishment had been unlike anything he had experienced before. Harry was used to pain but Dursleys had hurt him so badly and the curse the mage had used had nearly shocked him. That someone could feel so much pain.

Don't for get the hatred. Hissed the whisper. The stank of their hatred of you and the hatred of the mage for them was thick enough to choke someone. Harry swallowed back terror. The whisper was right. How could do anything to redeem himself in the face of such emotion?

Fear and panic suddenly seemed to overwhelm him. He suddenly wanted to curl up into a ball, tight and small and scared, like a snake. Breathing out slowly he let himself acknowledge that fear; the Dursleys were obviously engaged in their conversation and if they were to stop he would hear. . He didn't cry though; he couldn't afford that loss of control. There was no Hylaarr to give silent permission no Osset're to hold him and encourage the tears. They were gone. They were just dreams.

But what had happened the day before was not, as much as he might wish it. The Dursleys now knew about magic. Harry breathed slowly to stem the fretful panic that thought invoked. The Dursleys had always known about magic and about him having it. The punishments testified to that and he really ought to have known.

Yesterday he had used magic in front of the Dursleys. The fact that it had been in Vernon's defense was no excuse. They would punish him for that gross disobedience and it would be a very terrible punishment indeed.

But he did deserve it. The whisper snarled at him. The Dursleys had taken him on, unwilling, unhappily but they had. They had taken time out to punish him again and again, trying to teach him the normal way, and he had rejected their teachings simply because his had thought he knew better. He should have known better. Punishment was necessary.

It was unnatural, the magic. That much power in one little boy. He had always wondered why it was so easy to wield, why he never had to make much of an effort to try out something new. It was because that magic belonged to someone else. Perhaps more than one person. How he had gotten it he didn't know but he knew now. It was wrong. Even Osset're and Hylaarr had bound it away. Even they feared it.

Harry felt tears well up but he pushed them away. He wouldn't think about them. It was necessary, being back here. He belonged here, with the Dursleys. They knew what he needed. They had known all along. How arrogant he must have been to think that he, a child of seven, knew better then they. He _needed_ the punishments. He knew he needed them. The magic was always right and it told him he need the punishments. Perhaps if he were punished enough the magic would leave, and find the person it belonged in.

But then you'll never see Hylaarr and Osset're again, said The Whisper, always perverse. That would hurt them. Harry stiffened then gasped at the pain that brought.

Yes. That was true. But, it wasn't as if they were real after all.

Abruptly there was silence. Petunia and Vernon had stopped arguing. Harry held his breath. The soft click of Petunia's low heels could sounded on the hard wood floor and Harry let out the breath he held. Long familiarity with what the world sounded like from within the cupboard he could tell she was headed for him. It was time.

The cupboard door opened and the golden sunlight raced into the cupboard to fall onto his face. He squinted and could only see the dark silhouette of Petunia Dursley framed in the the light. Her voice, however, was easily recognizable.

"Get up, boy." Her tone was strained as if she was trying to keep it under control. Harry couldn't bring himself to answer verbally. Painfully he pushed himself into crouch; then gripping the door frame of the cupboard he pulled himself up into a standing position. Swaying he was finally able to stand but Petunia just stood there, still in the middle of the door frame.

Abruptly she grabbed his chin between her bony thumb and forefinger. " You listen to me, boy." She whispered harshly. "We are going to have a talk: you and Vernon and I. And if anything happens, anything at all, I will fill the tub with gasoline, light it on fire, and throw you in."

With a jerk she pulled away and retreated into the hall where the sunlight illuminated her tired pinched face. Harry simply gaped at her a moment before snapping his mouth shut and taking a deep breath. Letting it out he took a step out the cupboard and nearly fell over. He was forced to stop.

She's angry. The whisper was a small breath in his ear.

"Now, Boy." Harry knew that tone. It was the one she had only used once, just before she had hit him with the still hot tea kettle for Dudley's food being too hot.

By the time he had made it to the sitting room, he was pale and sweating. But as bad he felt Vernon looked worse. He was sprawled in his chair an afghan tucked up around him as he shivered periodically. He was ashen in color, and sweat beaded on brow and his mustache was dripping with it. Harry swallowed but the guilt he felt at Vernon's condition made it hard. It might also be the fact that he's afraid of you. The whisper sounded gleeful at that fact.

"Sit, boy." Petunia spat at him as she swept around him to stand next to Vernon's chair. Her eyes narrowed as he didn't move. "Before you fall over, Boy!"

Harry swallowed again and carefully perched on the settee behind him. He couldn't help trembling, but couldn't pinpoint weather it was because of the punishment he received last time he sat there or because of the conversation to come. Carefully he kept his eyes submissively down fixed on a knot in the maple wood floor.

"Look at your uncle, Boy." Petunia's voice was hardly recognizable. Harry timidly looked up. "Look at what you have caused." She hissed the last word so much that spittle flew out to land on the arm of Vernon's chair. "He's half dead, thanks to you. Are you happy now boy? Think your finally justified in indulging in your freakish ways." Her shoulders trembled with a shudder as she uttered the word. "FREAK. Thats what you are. Not only to normal people, but to others as well."

Her eyes were filled with hate. If he were a vampire he'd be choking on it. . He opened his mouth but closed it without a word. Even if he could have forced one passed the guilt clogging his throat he wouldn't have known what to say. Sorry? What good would that do. He had said it before, even meant it before, and had never been believed.

"Your parents." She stopped as if she were having a hard time pushing words out of her throat as well. "Your parents were freaks. Abnormal, bizarre, and completely unredeemable, but even they would have been preferable to you." Her eyes bore into him, and for the first time Harry realized they were green. Very pale but green. "You are a MONSTER! An evil thing with unnatural tendencies and if we had a choice you would have been _dead_ long ago!" Petunia was nearly hyperventilating and her hissing words had climbed into screams.

Harry swallowed again. He could barely breath past the panic that filled his throat. Not your panic. The whisper breathed in his ear. It's she whose panicking. He stared at her unseeingly as Vernon laid a hand on her arm to calm her.

"Hush, Pet." He wheezed, and gripped her arm tightly. "You boy, will listen and listen well." He spoke softly but that just sent chills down Harry's spine. "You will never use m-magic again." Even tripping over the word he sounded so strange from the Vernon Harry knew. "If you do I will see to it the only reason you will ever leave that cupboard will be to be thrashed within an inch of your life. You may think you know pain boy but I will find ways to hurt you that you have never even dreamed of."

"Your parents are dead boy."Petunia sniffed. "Because of you. You have nothing." She hissed this with a sort of glee. "You are _nothing."_

Harry just looked at her. She's lying said the whisper. She thinks your something. Something bad. Harry forced himself not to react to that.

She seemed to grow even more enraged at the lack of reaction. "Do you know, my sister was once normal?" Harry blinked to bring her back into focus but she had looked away from him to stare at the unlit fireplace.

"She and I would ride our bicycles down to the ice cream shoppe. She always ordered vanilla. We would talk for hours. About our future, and finding husbands, and having children. One day when I was 7 and she was 10 our father dropped me off at the ice cream shoppe and took her with him to the barber, Tom, and old friend of his. He had said they would be right back" Petunia's eyes had darkened. Feel it? The whisper urged him. Something bad happen. She's nearly sick with horror.

"It was dark before my mother came and picked me up. She had tears running down her face. She told me Lily was in the hospital. That Daddy had hurt her very badly and now he was dead. The barber had killed him." She laughed humorlessly.

" We visited my sister there and after a month passed we took her home. But the damage had been too extensive. The doctor said she would never be able to have children. She recovered and she found that that school and went there and when she came back she wasn't my sister anymore. She was a a- _freak_.

After she graduated and told me she was to marry Potter. I refused to see her again. But the years passed and not long after Dudley's birth she showed up on my door step, green eyes bright with happiness. 'I'm pregnant,' she said. 'A miracle, Tunie! Magic.' She whispered the word. I remember staring at her belly and feeling sick. It was wrong. There was no miracle just witchcraft. Devil's work." Petunia abruptly turned to look Harry straight in the eyes again.

"That, Boy, is what you are. A Devil's child. A monster. A Demon." Her eyes gleamed with hate. "My sister had become a witch, or perhaps she had been one all along and I never knew, and then she had slept with a devil. And then she had you." Petunia shuddered as if that had been the worse part of her story. "Do you know she told me of that prophesy? Said you were meant to kill an evil wizard. I laughed at her. It seemed so fantastical. 'So all that makes you is the mother of a murder.' I said. She left not long after that. If only she had listened to me. Perhaps she would still be alive now."

Petunia's fingers were digging into the arm of the chair like claws and this time Harry could feel her hate in his throat. "Perhaps you wouldn't have been born and killed her."

Harry could barely breathe. The shock of the story had robbed him of his breath. He wanted to ignore what she said. He didn't want to believe her. But he did. She knew best after all. She always had.. He should had never have been born. It made sense now. The magic his mum had used to heal herself had made him. And somehow stolen magic away from someone in order to make him a murder. He knew his mum hadn't meant it to happen that way but it did. And now she was dead.

He trembled. Magic. Magic had stolen his mum from her sister. Had made him. Had helped him kill his parents whose only crime had been they loved him too much. Had sentenced him to a lifetime of punishment as it was too stubborn to find someone else to inhabit. Magic had shown him love in Hylaarr and Osset're. Love where he deserved none. Magic. It was almost like a curse now.

Looking into the eyes of his aunt he could feel her hatred. It stuck in his throat stabbing sharply. There was also a watery feeling that threatened to drown him. Fear. The whisper sounded pleased. She fears you. They both do. He didn't even try to soften that pain. They feared him. They feared what he would become. They feared his unnatural, stolen, evil magic. He would accept any punishment they chose to give. It would only be the beginning of what he deserved.

Harry opened his mouth and this time managed to get something out. Staring into her pale green eyes he made a vow.

" I will _never_ used magic again, Aunt." The whisper echoed the vow in his head, mocking him a bit but Harry ignored it. He meant it. He wouldn't use it again.

Petunia's nostrils flared and her eyes widened and her mouth twitched. He heard an intake of breath which signaled Vernon was about to bellow.

The door bell rang.

The three in the sitting room froze.

* * *

October 26th

Morning

Lucius Malfoy apparated to Hogsmead sneering in distaste at the bustling of the town. The weather was disturbingly cheerful for late October and the sun had coaxed out wizards and witches to enjoy the day. As it was a few months into the school year, there were no students, but those out of school had taken advantage of nature's mercy and set out to holiday shopping as Halloween was in five days.

Lucius sneered at the pathetic decorations strung about the town. He did not approve of Halloween. Over the years, a once hallowed and ancient tradition had been skewed into a child's excuse to indulge in sweets to excess and bring in galleons into the pockets of those of the working class. What had once been an ancient and hallowed tradition had turned into a mockery. Lucius half expected the dead to one day retaliate. That would bring the true meaning of frightening to Halloween.

Tightening his grip on the snake head of his walking stick he turned to the castle that stood guard over the little town. Suppressing another sneer he made his way towards the school. The castle stood proud and timeless, a testament to the power of wizards past. Once the wizarding world had been worthy of it's inhabitants. Wizards had been powerful and spells had been miraculous even among those who could cast them. Blood had been pure and the evidence of that was clearly visible today, despite the absence of records of those spells. It had been time, and the introduction of muggle blood into the wizarding world, that had weakened it and brought it down to the limited power it was now.

When Lucius had graduated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he had craved power. To a Malfoy power was everything. Money was a means to get power but money could be spent, stolen, or withheld at life's whim. Blood had once held power. The prestige of being pureblood had meant something long ago but as the years went by and mudbloods infiltrated the wizarding world like rats it began to mean less. Purebloods were no longer held in such high esteem. Power was everything and Lucius had entered the world, an adult wizard, and found he had less of it then he liked.

Dissatisfied with the fickle attentions the Ministry bestowed he had sought other means of achieving that power and found enticing promises spilling from the lips of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. The charisma and silver tongue of the man who called himself Lord Voldemort had drawn Lucius to his side like a moth to a flame and he had soon found himself counted as one of his allies, a Death Eater by name.

Soon though he found he had sold his soul to a demon. An ally was not a servant and it wasn't long before he found out that that was what he had become. Once the mark was permanently etched into his arm for all to see he had discovered what it meant to be a servant of a dark lord.

Orders were given and expected to be carried out to fulfill his master's high expectations. Rewards for success were few and failure was severely punished. The Unforgivables had never meant anything but power to Lucius before then but he soon found out that when the Dark Lord wields them they give that power to him and everyone else bows before that. Indeed he found himself bowing to his new lord and not long after that kneeling. It wasn't for years that he would acknowledge that servant meant slave to Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Despite his newfound misgivings he had thrown himself into the role he chose. Despite the lack of dignity, if he could endear himself to his master, make himself indispensable, it was obvious one day he would have the power he craved. Voldemort was a very powerful wizard. His knowledge was only limited by the extent of his magic and that was remarkably grand. Indeed only Dumbledore could be considered his equal and even then it was doubtful the old fool had as much magic as Voldemort. Albus Dumbledore merely leaned on his vast collection of spells he had gathered in the course of his life and Lucius had been sure that he would be disposed of easily.

He had been wrong.

Albus Dumbledore was a light wizard and, like all fanatics, leaned on his devotion to that allegiance with unnatural fervor. It was that obsessive loyalty that kept him alive and actively opposing Lord Voldemort despite heavy losses the light side began to take. Slowly Dumbledore began to sacrifice more and more and value his people less and less. What should have been an advantage for the dark side became a disadvantage as those who were sacrificed for the greater good ended up taking Death Eaters with them. The losses were few at first but over time added up and his lord was not pleased.

Despite such opposition to his chosen side Lucius could have nurtured his faith and brushed off any doubts with ease if it weren't for the growing madness that seemed to take over his lord. Power or the dark or perhaps an insidious creeping evil that couldn't be stopped gradually infected Tom Marvolo Riddle and as the years passed and the dark side gained ground it seemed the price was his lord's sanity. Or perhaps humanity.

To this day he could recall the moment when he first acknowledged that.

It started with a boy. A young thing about 21 years of age: black hair, green eyes. A muggle. He held himself proudly and spat at the Death Eaters who had him surrounded. If he had been born with magic and attended Hogwarts he would have been Gryffindor. Despite his fear, he challenged the Death Eaters. Laughing when it took three stunning charms to finally knock him down. And when the curses started he spat filth and still tried to escape.

His lord ordered them to do anything they wished but kill him. He continued to order the same thing every day for three months. It became a daily ritual and each afternoon he would watch as the muggle was tortured. Each day he grew more and more blood thirsty. He demanded more violent torture, darker curses, and he was never pleased. He became obsessed. Finally one day the Death Eaters were called abruptly. It was midmorning when he called and Lucius had been in a meeting with the Minister something he had been waiting months to achieve. Others had been similarly occupied, but he called them all. Some had been discovered as the result of that day.

When they arrived he was spitting in a mad rage. Everyone had been sure something had happed. Something devastating for the war they were beginning to wage against the wizarding world. But no. The muggle had finally given up his hold on life. He had died. And Voldemort blamed his allies, the Death Eaters. He had tortured them all. Each one. Some had died. The inner circle had attempted to reason with him and he had turned on them as well. Accusing them of plotting against him. Some might have been guilty of that but what Slytherin worth his scales wasn't plotting against someone?

By then Lucius had managed to make himself an important person his his lord's life. His lord valued him, if only for his money and name. But Lucius had saw how his fellow Death Eater's suffered and he had seen an opening. Slytherins were not brave, at least not when it was in the face of stupid unnecessary things such as morality. But when achieving their goals they were as fearless as Godric himself.

He had put himself in his lord's line of fire. He had endured torture in order to calm him first. Then humbly asked to speak privately with him. Riddle's green eyes had bore into him, attacking his mind and burrowing inside. Lucius had expected this and had braced himself. He had brought up the idea in him mind in desperation. But his lord had looked it over and dismissed it to sweep past and find Lucius's motive. He had felt the mind with in his. Obsessed chaos with fingers of fire that burned his mind wherever they touched. But finally they had exhausted Lucius's secrets and had finally pulled out.

Panting, unheeded tears wet on his cheek, Lucius had waited, sure death was imminent. But a mad laugh had startled him. Looking up he had watched as Riddle had laughed, and the sound had climbed in pitch eerily. Abruptly he stopped and walked away headed out he double doors that led to his private chambers. It was only when he had opened them did he turn around, an eyebrow raised, and looked at Lucius expectantly.

"You have your audience, Lucius." He had hissed. "Do you dare take it?"

Slytherins were not brave, they didn't take dares, and they could care less if their name was smeared in the mud as everyone did that anyway given a reason or not. But Lucius Malfoy had a horrid secret. Had he not been a Malfoy, and had he not begged, the hat would have put him in Gryffindor.

With incredible willpower he masked his pain and stood. He was a Malfoy first after all and Malfoys had their pride. Lifting his chin he had followed his lord.

In the private chambers of Tom Marvolo Riddle he had had knelt before his lord who seated himself upon an old style Victorian wingback chair as if it were a throne.

"Speak, my Lucius." His hissed order had also been a challenge.

Lucius had trouble speaking at first but refuse to let it show. " I am honored you would hear me, my lord." He had looked up through his lashes to watch his lords eyes. He could always tell his lord's mood through his eyes. "Particularly after seeming so amused by my suggestions."

Riddle had merely waited, staring intently. His eyes were like fire, they burned so hot with madness.

"It might be possible to bring him back my lord. It might take some research and much power but dark magic can do many things." Lucius wasn't fully convinced of the words he spoke but didn't let his tone show that. "However, it would be easier to simply torture him from this side of the veil. As a ghost he might suffer emotional anguish as your tortured his loved ones, or as a zombie his body could be desecrated. Perhaps-"

"Enough." Riddle had said it quietly but it seemed to echo in the room. Lucius could nearly feel death creeping up on him.

"The muggle was nothing." He hissed and turned his burning eyes away from Lucius to stare into the burning fire. "The muggle was less than that. He is dead. Why would I think anything of him after that?"

It had seemed he had forgotten that Lucius remained in the room with him but abruptly his lord's hot eyes had bore into him again. Angry. Expectant. Mad. Apparently he awaited an answer.

"I do not know, my lord. Death is more often then not final."

"Then what of vampires Lucius?" Riddle had once again looked away. " How do you explain them?"

Lucius couldn't help but sneer. "Animals, my lord. Creatures."

Riddle had smiled softly; the reflection of flames in his green eyes. "Indeed. Mere creatures," he whispered. "But how could they have such a gift as immortality when they are so . . . small."

"What is the definition of Immortality, Lucius?"

Lucius blinked. "I -I don't know, my lord. Living forever, perhaps?"

"Are you familiar with the myth of creation, Lucius? Of Adam and Eve?" Riddle's voice sounded saner. He merely sounded boredly curious. Lucius hadn't been able to help his shiver though.

"The muggle one? Yes, my lord." How the conversation had turned this way he hadn't been able to fathom.

Riddle was motionless. Only his mouth moved. "Did you know Adam had another wife? Lilith. She was created of mud and dust, when Adam was or perhaps before. She refused to lie beneath him during intercourse." His upper lip curled into a sneer. "She and Adam argued bitterly over it. He would not let it go and she would not give in. Finally he pushed too far. Accused her of disobeying the command to be fruitful and multiply. She threw up her hands to the heavens and told God to go to hell. Then transforming into a screech owl she flew away.

After that God made Eve from one of Adam's ribs. Eve was docile and submissive. And Lilith was filled with jealousy and disgust. She transformed herself into a serpent and went into the Garden. It wasn't long before her silver tongue seduced Eve and she ate of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. And then Adam did as well. They were cast out of the Garden and Lilith had her revenge. Because she had not eaten of the fruit she remained Immortal.

Immortal. Deathless. Living or Lasting forever." Abruptly his lord's eyes had found Lucius' and Riddle had risen and stood before him where he still kneeled. He could still recall keeping eye contact with his lord. He couldn't have looked away had he wanted to. And he had wanted to.

"I will tell you a secret, Lucius. My greatest secret." Then he had knelt as well and whispered in Lucius' ear. "I am immortal. I will never die." He hadn't pulled away after whispering that. His lord's breath had been hot in his ear. "You will though," Lucius's blood had ran cold but his lord had chuckled. "I hope not for a very long time, dear Lucius, for you will be very special to me." His lord's dry lips had brushed against his cheek. "Thats what you want isn't it, my Lucius? To be special to me? I must only ask you for one favor."

Lucius had swallowed and nearly shuddered. His dreams of Narcissa and marriage an children dissappearing. But he would be powerful. His lord would favor him. And he had wanted that more.

"Anything, my lord." He had breathed but hadn't moved. Neither had Riddle.

Riddle had chuckled, his hot breath burning Lucius's ear. "When you die," The whisper was so soft Lucius would never had heard it had his lord not been so close. "Tell my father thank you for me. I would never have craved Immortality were it not for him."

And then his lord was gone. Lucius had shuddered. When he looked up to find his lord he met those hot eyes once again.

Madness. Those green eyes held madness. Similar to the madness that had lingered in the muggle's equally green eyes the last time Lucius had cast Cruciatus on him.

It was that moment he had known that he had given up his life to darkness when he had chosen Riddle. Riddle was powerful. Riddle was mad. And Riddle would never die. Nothing had shaken that faith as the years passed and Lucius had not dared to hope.

When the Potter boy had defeated his lord he had been shocked. More than shocked he had been suspicious. His lord had claimed to be immortal and Lucius had never doubted him. Indeed he had waited for him to come back with unwavering faith. His lord would return and he would come for him loyal or not. Better to remain loyal and take his place once again as his lord's right hand. Despite being mad, his lord was powerful and would win the war. It was only a matter of time. Dumbledore was his only opposition and he would die soon enough. His lord never would. He had been convinced that despite the prophecy and his lord's absence. Nothing had made him doubt.

Until the day before. Meeting Potter had shaken his faith down to the foundations and worse than that it had given him hope. The boy was so powerful. His magic had filled the room and it had only been Lucius' exposure to his lord and Dumbledore that had prevented him from getting drunk on it. To have that kind of power. Even to be on the same side as it.

Lucius wasn't stupid. There were whispers. Slytherin's Blood there were more than whispers. His lord was returning. Not yet, not even soon, but he would return. And then the war would begin again. But this time there would be Harry Potter.

The events of yesterday left two paths in front of Lucius perfectly clear. He could continue as he had for years. He could follow his lord, despite his current absence. He could leave the boy if the boy lived through the muggles perhaps he could be picked off early before he learned that he would be able to fight back soon enough. He had gained a wealth of information about him. An abused little lion, though equipped with sharp teeth and claws, could easily fall prey to a snake hidden in the grass.

And part of him, the Slytherin part, wanted to. Simple self preservation rearing its head as well as the desire to protect his son and wife. If they boy were dead there would hardly be much of a threat to the Malfoy family. Dumbledore would fall soon enough and then all he would have to do would be to please his lord. Such a simple road. Ever so slightly downhill but that made it all the easier to see the end of it.

Or he could follow the other road. The one that looked liked it climbed a bit more and doubled back on it self more often then not.

The boy could be saved if it was done soon. His abuse was extensive; his scars were deeper than visible and numbered in quantity. But if they were allowed to heal the boy would be that much stronger. All the power in the world was only as strong as it's wielders will. Imagine what the boy could do were he to gain the strength needed to climb over his abuse.

It was the hat. Lucius blamed the bloody sorting hat.

If it weren't for that hat he wouldn't have even acknowledged the Gryffindor in him. He would have gone on blissfully unaware that risk occasionally yielded greater reward than caution.

He had been trying to talk himself out of it since yesterday but every argument just reinforced his desire. The boy must be saved. The hard road must be climbed.

Finally he reached the castle. Staring at it he was disappointed to find he didn't even mind his decision anymore. After all the straight and narrow path never was that appealing anyway.

* * *

October 26th

Morning

Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a patient wizard. His sister had always told him he would see the forest before the trees and that proved to be one of those statements that stuck in his head over the many years as something to keep in mind. It was one of those things that could be considered a fault if one let it but Albus Dumbledore never did. He could wait quite patiently for the trees to grow and naught be bothered by the time it took. Indeed at his age that analogy was far closer to accurate. Looking out now at the Forbidden Forest he could remember it being much smaller when he was a boy. How quickly time passes.

"Again, Dumbledore, its the last thing we want isn't it? If the French weren't so insistent on it I'd never pass such a bill but the Veela have quite over taken Le Monde Magique,. I do believe there isn't a French wizard who doesn't have a bit of veela somewhere in their ancestry." The mole on the minister's upper lip twitched as she tisked. "And they have the nerve to call themselves pureblood."

Albus eyed the Millicent Bagnold over his half spectacles and only with years of practice was able to suppress his smile. "Ah but Minister I do recall your father claiming to be descended from the Seer Ulma Essen."

The Minister paled a bit at that and stared at Albus frozen in dismay. Albus politely turned his attention to the lemon drops in the glass bumblebee shaped candy dish siting on the right corner of his desk. He was rather put out with himself as he had forgotten how sensitive those of the Dwarf lineage were. Reluctantly he refused his desire for one of the candies and focused on the minister . She had followed his gaze to the candy dish and stared at it absently as she struggled to regain her composure.

"Ahh yes a bit daft he always was, Bumble- I mean Dumbledore." She dragged her eyes up and lifted her chin haughtily. " None of the family every believed a word he said." The mole on her upper lip twitched. "As I was saying, Headmaster, I am not entirely on board with this bill. Do you know it even states that Magical Creatures will have the right to own land, property, and house their money in _Gringotts_." The Minister's face was flushed as she started passionately on that spiel. "Gringotts! Can you even imagine? Giving _creatures_ rights as if they were- equal_-_ to Wizards!"

Dumbledore did his best to look sympathetic but unconcerned which was rather hard to do. It involved frowning without furrowing one's eyebrows and that was a trick that had taken a decade to master.

"I would not be overly concerned, Minister," he began in a jovial but serious tone. Don't even ask how he pulled that off. "I do believe this Bill is just clarifying certain laws already in place." He pulled on his upper whiskers in a thoughtful way liking the feel of them. He had only just started growing them out and he rather thought they made him look a bit more dignified. "After all aren't there already laws implying similar ideas about the Veela, Goblins, and Merpeople?" Albus looked carefully at the Minister who opened her mouth then closed it without saying anything. "The Bill just expands to include other sentient magical creatures."

Millicent Bagnold sniffed and sneered and her mole nearly touched her nose. Albus hastily averted his eyes and his hand inched towards the lemon drops. Finally caving he picked one up and happily began opening the wrapper. Popping the sweet in his mouth he hummed happily. He loved lemon drops. Blinking he remembered his guest and his eyes twinkled to see the Minister frowning at him.

"Lemon drop?" He offered.

The Minister sniffed again and stood. "No thank you, Headmaster, I must be taking my leave."

"Oh, of course Minister, I understand. Perhaps another time." The Minister nodded curtly before leaving through the floo. Albus sucked on the lemon drop and frowned a bit. Such leave taking was rather abrupt. Younglings these days. No manners at all.

Ahh well. The lemon drop was just enough to wash away the mild irritation and bring him back to congratulating himself. The Bill was sure to pass and now the Minister wouldn't doggedly oppose it. Dumbledore was quite happily over joyed. The beginning of change was such a delight to watch.

Yes he was the type of wizard who saw the forest for the trees but that didn't mean he didn't occasionally enjoy getting dirty planting the seeds too. Indeed it would give him the chance to wear that delightful new robe Sprout had been so thoughtful to get him for his birthday. It was fluorescent green and was covered in delicately drawn magical herbs. He could have sworn even Severus was a tad jealous when he saw it. Perhaps he would get him one as well. Christmas was coming up-

A cursory knock on his door was the only alert he had before the door was opened and Lucius Malfoy sailed in looking elegant and rather posh as he usually did.

"Ahh Lucius, there you are." Albus' eyes were twinkling he knew. They did that when he was forcing himself not to laugh. "Your a bit late, my boy. I expected you nearly five minutes ago. You just missed the Minister."

Lucius' mouth attempted a smile and Dumbledore gave him points for the effort and then extra for refraining from a sneer.

"Indeed, Headmaster." A blond eyebrow was raised. "I apologize for my lateness." The boy sounded so sarcastic but an apology was a rare thing nowadays and Dumbledore had learned to take what he could get.

"Apology accepted, my boy. Do sit. Shall I get us some sugarplum tea? Or do you prefer Chai?" With a twitch of his whiskers he summoned a house elf and pushed the bumblebee dish towards the boy.

"Chai, if you please, Headmaster." Dumbledore nearly blinked in surprise and then did when Lucius Malfoy picked a wrapped lemon drop and began to unwrap it. The silver eyes of the Slytherin caught that and then he did smile. A genuine one at that. The crisp plastic wrapper crinkled a bit as he slipped the sweet into his mouth.

Well this should be fun. It had been a while before he had last truly matched wits with a clever Slytherin. Well at least one who wasn't afraid of hurting his feeling. Poor Severus was always so thoughtful that it was getting rather dull around here. His eyes were twinkling again and he let them.

A house elf promptly brought tea and Albus let himself enjoy the pleasant ritual of playing host. It was such a shame he didn't get to indulge in this more often. If only the younglings here weren't so busy all the time. He was sure they wouldn't be so rude as to refuse tea if they weren't up to their wands in work.

Lucius was in quite the pleasant mood today. He was even letting himself enjoy the tea. It made Albus' old heart warm to see his brewing skills so appreciated.

When his sugarplum tea was liberally dosed with sugar and cream and the boy had taken a sip of his Chai he finally felt the ritual settle in. Gentle magic attended them, watching carefully, which had been the purpose. That particular ritual had been created decades ago when Wizards had decided there was often a need for an unbiased and trustworthy witness. The magic didn't do much beyond seeing that both parties treated each other with respect. It had been perfect for the many petty squabbles that often sprouted up between purebloods. Now, sadly such rituals were being forgotten more and more. It was such a delight to see the young who still practiced.

"Now, my dear boy, what is it I can do for you today?" His eyes twinkled as Lucius' right eye twitched involuntarily. He really couldn't have not offered his help, as that was the words that the ritual called for. Slytherins were just so sensitive. Imply that one might need help and they tended to sulk for days and refuse just out of suspicion alone.

Lucius sipped his tea a second time before answering. Then rather boldly he jumped right in. "You can begin writing your speech to the wizarding public. You will be holding a press conference quite soon, Headmaster. This afternoon in fact." His right hand lightly caressed the snake head on his cane. Silver eyes mocked him with false concern. "I do hope you don't have plans?"

Albus felt guilty at the thrill that ran though him. Finally someone was setting up a game again. It was so hard to find good players. His eyes twinkled even more brightly.

"And what might this speech regard, my boy?" Abus asked in a courteously curious tone. He sipped his tea.

"Ahh yes." Replied Lucius. "That. I though you knew?" Lucius also took a sip of tea.

"I'm afraid my memory isn't quite what it used to be, my boy." Albus chucked, genuinely pleased. This was going rather well. "Why just the other day I was speaking to Fawkes and I forgot that he had gone to visit Hagrid. It simply slipped my mind."

"Completely reasonable, Headmaster." Consoled Lucius. "After all one can't remember everything, not even a wizard of your power. The end simply creeps up and in your hurry to finish everything before you go some things slip through the cracks."

Albus eyed him over his half spectacles and stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. "It does help when those young and spry help and old man out." The hint was rather obvious but Albus had never claimed to be a Slytherin. Just someone able to appreciate them.

"Indeed." Lucius waited another beat. "Such a shame your position will be lost when you finally pass beyond the veil."

Albus watched him curiosity highly aroused now. "And what position would that be my boy?"

"The one as the figure head for the light wizards of course." Lucius lifted his head and pinned Albus with his intent gaze. "Everyone had thought young Potter would one day take it up but with what's happened..."

Abruptly Albus wasn't amused. The gloves had just come off.

"And what, may I ask, has happened Mr. Malfoy?" Albus had straighted up in his seat and was watching the boy just as intently as he was being watched. Lucius looked away, but deliberately. He held the advantage. He knew more that his opponent did at the moment and he was savoring every second.

"My son and I were on our way to the Ministry yesterday. A father son outing if you will. You see he has been begging to go for ages now and finally managed to maneuver me into letting him come with. The most Slytherin child you will ever meet." Lucius took a sip of tea. "You won't believe the horrid scene we came upon. In a public lavatory no less."

Albus couldn't help but tense up at that and he saw the triumph in the silver eyes that noticed it. Deliberately Albus set his tea down. The china cup scurried to fit itself into it's saucer.

"Two muggles, a man and a woman were there. I admit I don't understand muggles, Headmaster, but even I was aware that what they were doing was . . . inappropriate." Despite his words Lucius' lips were curled into the beginning of a smile.

"They had a small boy, about four or five I would have guessed to look at him. He was being held against the wall by his wrists dangling more than three feet off the floor." Lucius tisked chidingly. "It was quite horrific. Blood dripped off the muggles hands' and the boy was covered in blood. Indeed the floor trampled with in bloody shoe prints. And the boy." Lucius's upper lip curled but for once Albus couldn't tell the emotion behind it. "He wept silently."

Lucius waited before continuing in a bored tone. " It was rather accidental that the female hit him so his head snapped back just enough to reveal the scar on his forehead." He took another sip of tea. "A scar in the shape of a lightening bolt."

Albus stared at him, and felt everything grow heavy. Suddenly he felt very old.

Lucius politely looked away but his smile remained. "Being an upstanding citizen of the wizarding World I intervened of course. Just enough to find out the reason for the. . . torture the boy was enduring."

Albus leaned heavily against his desk. He couldn't even summon the nerve to as the question. But no matter as Lucius held the quaffle now, and was speeding off with it.

"Can you imagine, Headmaster? Such violence against someone, simply because they are more or less different than you are."

Albus didn't have the heart to respond.

The boy. Harry. He had thought he had done what was best. He had placed him in what he had thought would be a healthy environment if not a warm one. Lily's muggle sister had seemed the ideal choice. Protection, isolation, and a normal life. That was all he had wanted for the child. Now it seemed that once again he had made a mistake that had destroyed an innocent's life. And not just any innocent but one crucial to the fate of the wizarding world.

"As to your speech, Headmaster, you will want to do damage control. After all no telling how the public will react when I am forced to reveal what monsters the muggle you placed the boy with are."

That got his attention. The reaction to such news could be terrible indeed. 'You can mourn later old man,' Albus told himself. 'Now is time to deal with the snake sitting in front of you poised to strike.'

Slowly he called his magic, letting it flow into the channels that were more than familiar after all these years. He could tell it was visibly felt when Lucius stiffened every so slightly.

"No doubt, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps I should include the state Mr. Potter is in now?" Albus stepped his hands in front of him. "It might help to alleviate undue worry."

"Lucius' smile grew even more pronounced. "That would be helpful." He agreed smirking. "Although his condition the last time I saw him would more likely incite worry than alleviate it."

Albus was growing tired of this game. It was time for Gryffindor tactics. "Mr. Malfoy. What is it you want, exactly?"

Lucius grinned teeth showing and Albus gritted his teeth behind the thin line his lips held themselves in.

"You sound like your accusing me of something, sir." Lucius responded as he leaned back into his chair comfortably. "I find that highly offending when I came here with the best of intentions." Albus really _couldn't_ help it when his magic responded to his growing impatience by flexing. Lucius merely grinned again. If the situation hadn't been so tense Albus would have been amazed by the amount of smiling he had managed to coax out of a Slytherin after all these years.

"Such as bringing important news to my attention, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius sniffed. "Of course, Headmaster. After all I was dreadfully concerned when it seemed as if you knew nothing of yesterday's event. I rushed over to see if you had fallen ill, perhaps, but I find you well and jolly and eating a lemon drop." This time he didn't bother to smother his sneer. "The only tolerable explanation seems to be that you had no knowledge of it and I felt it was my duty to inform you. After all Harry Potter is our Saviour. Surly it is our duty to see to it he is protected from any. . . violence whatsoever. Children are so fragile, Headmaster. You, of all wizards, should know."

"Of that I am quite aware, Mr. Malfoy." Albus leaned forward and stared at Lucius. There was something he was missing here. "Harry Potter especially, as the war is not that long ended. It is highly possible enemies might still lurk nearby." See he was capable of subtle speaking too. Or rather not so subtle speaking. "Taking him out of his protected home might give them the opportunity they've been waiting for." And he leaned forward even more. "Are you sure, my boy, of what you claim to have seen yesterday?"

Lucius' hand tightened on the head of his snake cane until his knuckles were white. Albus couldn't help but notice and his hopes fell.

"I do not have a doubt as to what I, and my seven year old son, witnessed yesterday evening." Lucius hissed. "The Boy Who Lived being abused by his muggle relatives? I assure you I have an imagination but not one so fantastical as that."

Albus grew even more heart heavy at that. Draco Malfoy had also seen this. If true the boy would never be able to overcome his hatred for muggles. Another life affected by his mistake. "Your son is well enough for you to be away, Lucius? Is there anything I could do? If he needs someone to speak with-"

"He would come to me."

Lucius eyed him with obvious suspicion. "And my son is of no concern of yours. Harry Potter is the one you should be worrying about, Headmaster. His situation is life threatening in my opinion and must be rectified."

Albus's eyed grew hard and he stared at Lucius with equal suspicion. "And what would you suggest, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius leaned back and watched him, his grip on his cane loosening. "Why I thought I would leave that up to the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore. You after all are far more experienced in such matters and I will defer to your judgment."

Albus blinked. He was abruptly confused. He had thought he knew what Lucius was about but that answer threw him.

"How kind of you, my boy." Albus tilted his head and studied the Slytherin. "I had thought you nearly had my speech planned out for me."

"Ah how silly of me." Lucius said absently. "I had forgotten I canceled that press conference. What a shame."

"Indeed." Albus struggled to understand what was going on with the Slytherin but found he couldn't. "Is that all, Lucius?"

"I believe it is, Headmaster." Lucius rose gracefully and nodded. "If you will excuse me I must get back home."

Albus stared at him a moment before nodding as well. " Of course, my boy. Until next time."

The ritual released them and Lucius headed for the door. Just before opening it he hesitated. "Ahh, Headmaster. There was once more thing." Albus' blue eyes snapped to Lucius' silver ones. " If, years down the road, he is ever curious, be sure to tell Harry Potter that it was I who brought this information to your attention." Those silver eyes bore into his and Albus felt as if he had cast Luminos for the first time. "One can never have too many allies, after all."

With that Lucius Malfoy left his office, closing the door softly behind him. Albus sat there a moment before a laugh escaped.

Well Achille's Heels he had finally been manipulated so smoothly he hadn't even noticed until it was done. Turning his mind to Harry Potter he found he wasn't bothered by that.

* * *

October 26th

Early Evening

The door bell rang.

It startled everyone in the room into jumping.

"Stay here." Said Petunia with a glare at Harry. She left to answer it and Vernon closed his eyes as if he were in pain.

Click, click, click went her heels, and then the door opened. "Yes?" The sound of her curt snap was easily heard in the sitting room.

"Good Evening. Petunia Dursley I presume?" An old man it sounded like. He spoke in a courteous but grave tone. Something in Harry's stomach slipped out of place. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Merde.

Harry suddenly felt dizzy. How could this have happened? Don't be stupid. The whisper sounded disgusted. The tall blond mage. That was it. He had told someone. Of course he had.

"I am here to speak to your nephew, Harry Potter. Might I come in?"

Harry was near to panicking. So is Petunia. The whisper smirked but Harry ignored it. He had just vowed never to used magic. Never under any circumstances. He had meant that vow. But there was a someone on their door step looking for him. Someone who knew about the – the punishments. Someone who was a more than likely a wizard.

"No you may not!" Petunia hissed. "I will not – you cannot - I - The boy is on punishment!" The hinges on the door sounded as if she were trying to close it but the slam of the door was never heard.

"I do apologize for my unannounced visit but I am afraid it is imperative that I speak to young Harry." His voice was jovial this time but firm. "Surly you will invite me in? It is rude to leave guests lingering in doorways after all."

Harry peeked at Vernon, who was pale with fear and straining to see through the wall into the entrance hall. Swallowing down his own fear he reached into the cup of liquid light. Letting the magic fill his 'hands' he sent it to quickly heal every pain he had. Visible wounds first. Then everything else. He was aware now that what he was doing was wrong but the fear of being caught doing magic paled in comparison to the fear of the Dursleys being caught.

"Fine." Petunia's voice was thin. "Come in then."

Boots sounded on the hard wood floor, Petunia's heels following. "I assume your sitting room is this way?"

"Yes but-" Petunia started but it was too late. Suddenly there he was in the doorway. Harry turned to look at him just as did Vernon whose mouth dropped open at the sight.

A tall thin man with waist length silver hair, beard, and mustache paused just after entering the room. He had half moon spectacles upon his crooked nose and wore a pointed hat upon his head. It was yellow and matched his yellow robes that fell to the floor. Pink stars and hearts decorated the hems of the robe and he wore a long red cloak over the robes which also touched the wooden floor. The toes of florescent pink, pointed-toe boots could be seen peeking out from underneath.

His bright blue eyes swept the room, passed over Vernon, and lit on Harry.

"Ahh, Harry.!" Dumbledore's smile reached his eyes which twinkled like the stars on his robes. "So good to see you again, my boy!"

He strode over to the settee and seated himself beside Harry before reaching up his sleeve and pulling out something yellow.

"Lemon drop, Harry?"

Harry just stared at the wizard before him and was speechless. Dumbledore was no doubt Dominant. Harry could practically smell it. But his body language was confusing and his tone held more than one meaning. Harry couldn't even make out more than a few. He also made Harry's throat thick with - something. Relief? Sadness? Happiness? All of those said the whisper. And Harry felt – scared. And suspicious.

Careful to hide those emotions behind his eyes he accepted the lemon drop. He didn't drop his eyes submissively though. He didn't dare. But he did glance at Petunia who was looking at him in shock. She had noticed the lack of bruises on his skin then. And the lack of cuts and pain. She knew he had used magic. Green eyes held green eyes for a long moment before she nodded, giving permission. Harry gave her a small smile before turning his eyes back to the old man who called himself a wizard.

Dumbledore smiled a jolly smile at Harry. "And how are you today, my boy?" He asked this as if he were being a polite guest but Harry could hear the intent interest in his voice and felt sadness in his throat.

"Alright, sir" Said Harry softly, pushing past the emotions in his throat that didn't seem to be his. "How are you?"

Dumbledore's smile got impossibly wider. "I am well, Harry, quite well." He took a deep breath as if breathing in the crisp air. "October has always been my favorite time of year, I must say. Halloween right around the corner." He tilted his head in a curious way. "Do you like Halloween Harry?"

Harry looked at him hiding his suspicion. "Yes sir, very much."

"Ahh." Was all Dumbledore said but the sadness in Harry's throat increased.

Harry hesitated but then took a risk. "Shouldn't I, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at him suddenly sober. "You should, of course, my boy. Halloween is a very special holiday. But I would understand if you didn't child. After the events of six years ago, you might find such festivities uncomfortable."

Harry grew very still. Licking his lips he looked at Petunia who, while her face seemed pinched and strained, had remained silent. Her face was pinched with irritation. She's afraid you'll tell. Said the whisper. Vernon was still staring at Dumbledore. And he's just afraid. "If I might ask, sir, what happened six years ago?"

Dumbledore looked at him over his half spectacles very gravely. "A dark wizard attacked three friends of mine that day, Harry. Two died as a result of that attack." He leaned a bit closer. "Your parents, Harry." He very gently put a hand on Harry shoulders.

Harry forced himself not to react beyond looking down. Don't flinch. Don't tense. Don't shove his bloody hand _off_. He shoved the information of when his parents died away. He could deal with it later There was something going on now.

"Didn't you know, Harry?"

Harry looked at his hands and forced himself not to tense. He should have seen it coming. Yes you should have said the whisper. He was testing you. You failed

"No sir," he whispered.

" I see." The wizard sounded very resigned now. "Look at me my boy." He said it very gently but it was an order.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting soft blue ones. And suddenly they were his whole world. Suddenly they were all Harry could see and it felt as if the old wizard was climbing into his head. Indeed Harry started seeing his own memories flash by. Dudley's birthday, the first time he was given chores. Halloween, Christmas, an odd day in July when he had been locked in the shed because he had pushed Marge's dog ripper away when he tried to bite him. Cooking, cleaning, punishments, the cupboard, all sped past Harry's eyes, behind Harry's eyes, as if they were pages in a book and someone was gently turning them.

Harry was afraid. In fact he was just plain scared. The wizard was somehow in his head. He was looking at everything Harry had tried to keep secret. He was looking at the oddest things. He was – he was invading Harry's mind. But if Harry tried to push him out he'd know about the magic. If Harry tried to push him out he'd be _using_ magic.

He was about to learn of the magic anyway, though. Worse, he had already come dangerously close to learning about Crescent. Harry couldn't help but tremble. If the wizard found out about Hylaarr and Osset're . . . Actually Harry didn't know what would happen but he desperately didn't want to find out. He began to grab memories, pages, and hide them. Beyond the memories there was darkness; it looked like being in the cupboard at night. He hid memories there. Memories of Crescent. Pages after pages of Hylaarr and Osset're. And then of magic. Of him finding out about magic. Of him using magic.

Faster and faster gentle hands turned pages and stopped now and then to read their contents. Faster and faster Harry pulled out pages and hid them. But the wizard was still finding out things. About Harry. About how Harry acted, and thought, and hid himself from the Dursleys. And distantly Harry felt rage creeping into his throat. He could barely breath through it. If you don't hide more he'll more than likely kill the Dursleys. The whisper didn't seem to distressed by that, but Harry was. He skipped ahead and started grabbing pages by the handful and hiding them. He could barely keep ahead.

The first week at school sped past; Professor Peter. Harry couldn't grab that one in time. Those gentle fingers seemed to stop and linger on Harry's vow never to trust again. The sadness and anger in Harry's throat warred for supremacy.

And then the they lingered on the doctor's visit. Harry hastily hid his meeting of Draco as it had him using magic in it. The reason for the punishment became unclear but then The Punishment was unfolding and Harry couldn't breath though the rage. He was glad when his memory of that ended and those gentle fingers closed his book of memories, and soothed it with a pat. Then finally Harry was let loose.

Gently blue eyes looked at him and it was all Harry could do to not look away. How dare he. How dare that wizard; the four-eyed, old, buffoon! Or better yet Bumblebee. He was yellow and looked like a bumblebee. Harry didn't like bumblebees since Dudley had pushed him into a hydrangea bush and he had gotten stung four times.

It was cold in the room and it took Harry a few seconds to figure out why. The wizard had called up his magic. It wasn't visible, like Osset're's but it was obviously there. At least to Harry.

This old wizard was very dangerous.

"I suppose you know about Lord Voldemort then Harry?" Asked Dumbledore his voice deceptively mild.

Harry nodded not trusting himself to speak. He already knew said the whisper. He read it in your mind. The question was a farce. Designed to bring the conversation where he wanted it to go.

"You see years ago that dark wizard was nothing more than a boy your age. He lived in a rather grim orphanage as his parents had died too. And he also had magic." Vernon made a muted strangled sound but Dumbledore ignored him. "He was able to gain a semblance of control over it at a very young age but sadly he also had a tendency towards cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

Yes but what had caused him to have to? The whisper sneered and Harry wanted to but refrained. "Do you know why, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at him eyes sad. "When children are left to their own devices, ignored, or neglected they do not learn right from wrong. Then, perhaps, others are cruel towards them," Blue eyes glanced at the Dursleys disapprovingly before turning back to Harry. "It teaches them to be cruel back. I believe such a thing happened to the young Voldemort and he was forever scarred by it. When he grew up he simply sought to make sure if there was pain others suffered it and not him."

Harry could practically here Dumbledore chastising the Dursleys and he was disgusted. Just as he had always thought. Someone know knew about the punishments and they had taken it all wrong. Dumbledore was wrong. The Dursley's did so much for him. And they most certainly did not ignore him. They taught him right from wrong. They tried at least. It was Harry who never obeyed.

He was threatening the Dursleys as well. He was trying to tell them that if Harry ever turned out like that dark wizard it would be their fault. He was trying to guilt them into ceasing their harsh punishments. Harry could have told him that they would be more likely to punish him more after that story if just to make sure he never became such a thing

"When he grew up he hated those who had hurt him. His hate translated to that those who had no magic, muggles. He then sought to hurt them back. To destroy them. All of them. Most wizards opposed him. Your parents included. They defied him again and again." There was a curious tone in his voice when he said this but Harry didn't understand. "And then there was a Prophesy. It said that their unborn child, you Harry, would defeat him. He found out and sought to eliminate that threat." Dumbledore watched him carefully the entire time as if trying to guage how the story was affecting him. "Six years ago on Halloween he killed them and tried to kill you. But the curse he used bounced off you, my boy, and hit him instead."

Harry had looked down during the story. It had affected him. It confirmed what he already knew. It was his fault that his parents were dead. "And I killed him." It was a statement. He already knew he had.

Dumbledore was silent as he rose and walked slowly over to the fireplace which was unlit. He took a lemon drop from inside his sleeve and unwrapped it as he looked at the pictures on top of the mantle. "Some people believe that." he whispered before he popped the candy in his mouth.

But he doesn't. The whisper finished. Harry looked at him in surprise. "Don't you, sir?" He asked.

Dumbledore met his eyes from across the room. "No, my boy, I do not. Lord Voldemort was a powerful wizard, with much knowledge of dark magic. I believe it is more than likely he remains alive." Dumbledore turned his eyes away from Harry. "Lurking in shadows. Biding his time."

"Utter nonsense."Bellowed Vernon or he tried. He was still weak and his bellow sounded more like a wounded cat than and angry bull. "That boy killed him! You said so it the letter you left with him on the front stoop! He is a murder, an evil murdering little bas-"

"_Enough." _Although he didn't yell it Vernon reacted as if he had. "That will be enough, Mr. Dursley." Dumbledore looked like a thundercloud now. Powerful, unpredictable, and dark with rage.

"Six years ago I brought you a child whose life I feared for should he be left unprotected. The magic I evoked means that Harry has powerful protection while he can call this house home. I left you a letter explaining his parent's murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own." Blue eyes flashed furiously Vernon who trembled uncontrollably. "You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and violent cruelty at your hands. The best that be said is he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy in those pictures on your mantle."

Both Petunia and Vernon glanced at the pictures checking to see if there were only pictures of Dudley. Harry could see their confusion. Such idiots sneered the whisper. Harry ignored it once again. This had gone on long enough. Harry had let Dumbledore rage at them as he knew nothing he could say in their defense would be believed but he could at least distract the bumblebee.

"You brought me here then, sir?" Harry whispered not really asking. He didn't know why he felt so horrified. I know why. The whisper was barely heard.

Dumbledore sighed and turned to look over his half moon spectacles at Harry. A sad regret passed over the blue that looked at him. "Yes, my boy. November 1st six years ago, I brought you here."

Harry was frozen and simply stared after him. Intense sadness and guilt filled his throat that Harry now knew was the wizard's but for some reason the rage in his throat remained and it wasn't Dumbledore's anymore.

"Yes, my boy. And I am sorrier than you know. I am more than responsible for the unjust punishments you have know here and I can never make up for that mistake." Dumbledore's guilt was thick and slimy in Harry's throat. "I can, however, assure you it will never happen again."

A child of foreboding swept over Harry and he nearly panicked. "Are you taking me away?" He whispered shaking at the thought. You know he really ought to. 'Shut up.' Harry told the whisper.

Dumbledore's eyes grew even more sad. "No, my boy. I'm afraid you must remain. That you have house room here insures that you are protected from any outside source that wishes you harm. I fear your life would not last long should you leave."

Harry breathed a little easier. He was staying. That was good. But then magic began pouring off Dumbledore. It filled the room with thickness and Harry couldn't help his choked cough.

"You will never again be able to physically harm Harry Potter."Dumbledore said gravely, magic in ever word. "Should you do so the magic I have used will rise up and do to you exactly what you do to the boy."

The magic settled with a whoosh into both Petunia and Vernon who apparently never felt a thing. Harry on the other hand felt incredibly sick.

Dumbledore walked over to where Harry still sat and looked at him very intently. "Be well, Harry." He whispered softly and brushed his hand against Harry's shoulders. Then he left, the door closing quietly behind him.

Harry just stared at Petunia and Vernon who stared back. I don't like the wizard said the whisper softly. Harry agreed. Finally Vernon fainted and Petunia snapped to attention calling his name frantically. Unable to wake him she snapped at Harry to get gone and Harry took that opportunity to retreat to his cupboard. At least the wizard's magic couldn't take this punishment away.

* * *

**Ok. Hell of a comeback eh? Perhaps just as slow as I've been going in the past, and I am aware of how slow I am, but that is the way the story seems to go. I will try to pick it up once he gets at Hogwarts.**

**I'm posting this chapter and the next two today. Enjoy.**

**Fitful.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Big bad warnings for violence and child abuse there at the end. **

* * *

Chapter Nine

July 29th

Nine months later.

Two months after Dumbledore's visit the Dursleys found a way around the spell.

Harry had been given Dudley's second room but he refused to stay in it. Petunia hadn't pushed the issue and Vernon had merely smirked. But life was much better anyway. He had enough food, proper food, each day. Petunia and Vernon forcefully refrained from noticing him at all but sometimes they couldn't help it. His chores had lessoned to practically nothing and now they had a Lucy, the maid who came in twice a week to do serious cleaning. The house wasn't as clean as Petunia liked it though and she would often clean it herself until late at night long after Vernon had retired.

School became more tolerable. For some reason Dudley had ceased to bully him there, although he still did at home, and life was much more pleasant. Even Professor Peter had relaxed his intense scrutiny of him after a few months had passed of Harry arriving on time and without wounds. For some reason Harry had forgiven him the slighted bit and had started doing the homework.

It might have been because he had nothing better to do. After all with no chores and no punishments one could only do so much reading before getting very bored. It really had nothing to do with the warm pleasant tickle that sat in his throat whenever around the professor. The whisper had said it was love but Harry had ignored it.

It had taken a bit for the magic Dumbledore had cast to settle in. Vernon hadn't believed it at first but as he had been so ill he hadn't been in the right health to test it. Petunia had seemed to believe it. She had ignored him for the first week, throwing herself into caring for her husband and doing the chores Harry no longer did. Dudley had found himself left to his own devices more or less but Harry discovered he didn't mind that at all. It seemed Dudley liked it best when he was by himself or off with friends. His friend's mums would often pick him up from school and drop him off just before supper.

Finally Vernon was better and he went back to work. He was still tired when he came home but he tolerated it and merely went to bed much earlier then he ever had before. It actually happed to be a fortnight before the magic was tested. It began, like most punishments did, with Dudley.

* * *

Dudley had been arriving later and later from school, muttering something about Piers and Pier's cousin Joe Barker. It seemed he had taken a liking to the freedom he had now that his mother was less occupied with him. Finally Dudley had arrived late for dinner.

Harry had been sitting at the dinner table since the second week and hadn't looked up when Dudley came in. He was curious but feeling Dudley's cheerful mood dim when Petunia started fussing over him made Harry respectfully ignore his cousin. Dudley heaped his plate with food and began shoveling it into his mouth. Harry had finally figured it out and had been appalled he hadn't noticed before. Dudley ate when he was upset. Sometime when bored but usually when he was upset. Harry hadn't really done much differently despite the change in the Dursley house hold. He still was quiet, did what he was told, and tried to remain unnoticed. For the first time in his memory he voluntarily brought himself to Dudley's attention.

"Bad day Dudley?" Harry had said quietly. He hadn't whispered it but it wasn't so loud as to provoke the reaction it got.

Dudley had paused in shock and stared at him a bite half way to his mouth. "Err, yeah."

Petunia had ignored Harry and made another fuss over Dudley. When Dudley's cheer started to sag a bit he spoke again.

"That test was hard, wasn't it?" The test had been spelling, but the words had been extra challenging that day.

"Yeah. Missed most of 'em." Dudley had actually put down his fork to answer. Using his napkin for the first time that evening he had wiped his mouth and took gulp of his water. For a few minutes he looked at his plate, frowning unhappily, before starting again. This time he ate much slower.

Harry had nodded sympathetically. "Yeah me too. Should have studied more."

Dudley snorted and Harry could feel the self recrimination making crumbs sit in his throat. "Yeah." Dudley had agreed.

While Harry's hatred of Professor Peter had lessoned somewhat it had not gone. He had made the mistake of believing that Dudley didn't like him also as he often complained about English class and it's teacher.

"Professor Peter's a right prat for not warning us." Harry muttered darkly. "Or at least teaching us better. It's a wonder he's lasted this long with such poor teaching skills."

It was the most Harry had ever said at one time to any of the Dursleys. He really should have known better. And with his new, err _talent_ for feeling other's . . . well . . . feelings he had no excuse for what happened next.

"He's not a prat."

Harry had blinked. "He's not?"

Dudley's little hand had made a fist over his fork and Harry started to feel sharpness stab his throat. Dudley was getting angry. No Dudley was angry. "No he's not. He's a nice teacher. He" Here Dudley hesitated before continuing. "He's been helping me. I've been staying after and he's been tutoring me."

Petunia cooed and Vernon roughly said his Dudder's didn't need any help. Harry merely blinked. He should have known. Professor Peter hadn't been able to get at the Dursleys with Harry so he would use Dudley instead.

"Dudley," Harry began cautiously. "I'm not sure that he's really being nice." All three Dursleys had stopped and stared at him. "Don't you think its odd he's helping you now? He hasn't before."

Dudley frowned. "I asked him."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah but something is a bit off about him, don't you think? He can't really be that nice, Dudley"

Dudley's eyes grew hard. "Yeah he can. He just gets sick sometimes is all."

Harry grew alarmed. "Sick how? Does he act funny or anything when he's sick?"

Dudley frowned aggressively. "No. Look. Just cause your a stupid liar doesn't mean you can talk bad about him. I like him. He's nice. He tells me I'm smart and also tells me when I'm being dumb." Petunia gasped in outrage but Dudley shot her a disgusted look. "Not like that, Mum. Just when I'm being stupid and I should know better. He's actually all right so just lay off all right?" With that said he went back to his food.

Harry stared at him in dismay. What if Professor Peter found out about things through Dudley. If Dudley started trusting him he could let something slip. Or worse confide in him. Dudley might not know everything but he knew quite a bit. Harry had to lie.

"Dudley." His cousin kept right on eating. Harry glanced at the Dursleys but both Petunia and Vernon were eating as well, ignoring him. "Professor Peter isn't nice. I – He did stuff thats not – nice once." Dudley didn't look up. "Like what?"

Harry hesitated. He didn't actually want to tell Dudley what he was going to accuse Professor Peter of. Dudley was only eight after all. He looked at Petunia but she didn't look up. "Bad stuff, Dudley. I can't tell you."

Dudley snorted. "Then shut it, Harry."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Stuff that should never be done to a child." Harry whispered it. He couldn't help but remember Petunia's story about his mum. Apparently Petunia remembered too as she stiffed and looked up sharply at Harry. That was what he had been waiting for. He shuddered and bit his lip. "Please Dudders, don't-don't be alone with him." It was the please that sold Petunia.

With a gasp she started crying, then she looked at Dudley and grabbed him bursting into tears. Vernon apparently hadn't been paying attention but at the sudden commotion he roared at his wife to tell him what the boy had done now. Petunia was nearly hysterical and Vernon had to literally pull her away from Dudley into the hall. Dudley simply stared after them in shocked dismay. A few moments later Vernon roared in outrage.

"Boy!!!"

Harry got up from the table. He started shaking halfway across the kitchen but couldn't figure it out. It wasn't the first time he had gotten punishment and he did deserve this one. That had been one of the biggest lies he had told to date.

Out in the hall Vernon was nearly purple. "You filthy perverted piece of shit!" Vernon had spewed. "How dare you do – do something like that with a man!"

Harry gaped at him. What? "Uncle-"

But Vernon had swung his fist before Harry could get out more. Harry had seen it coming but hadn't moved. It was punishment after all. The blow knocked Harry to the floor and his glasses off but a loud thud startled Harry more. Grabbing his glasses he put them back on only to stare in shock at his uncle who was also on the floor looking dazed.

The spell Dumbledore had cast. He had said anything they did to Harry they would feel it too. Harry bit his lip. How could he have forgotten? Petunia had helped Vernon up and both had shrunk away from Harry like he had the plague. With a white face Petunia ordered him to his cupboard. Harry had gone quickly but had listened as they forbid Dudley from every going near Professor Peter again. Dudley had burst into tears and thrown a fit that lasted' til nearly midnight but they hadn't given in. Harry had been pleased his plan had worked but strangely regretful. Dudley had been so happy lately. If only it had been any other teacher he had gotten friendly with. Harry just didn't trust Peter. Enough said.

* * *

Dudley sulked for a week after that. He refused to talk to his parents or listen to a word they said. Petunia was in tears every night and almost hysterical before he finally stopped. But finally he did and Harry was pleased to see Petunia refused to let Dudley stay after school after that. She routinely began picking them both up at the end of the day and Harry couldn't help but feel grateful towards her although he knew she didn't do it for him.

Harry had meant the vow he made before Dumbledore arrived. After that first attempt to prevent the bumblebee from finding out about the punishment. He hadn't used magic since and life had become rather dull as the result. He had taken to reading a lot and spent quite a bit of time in the library. Harry had been skimming through books and found out that Dumbledore meant bumblebee in old English and hadn't been able to prevent his giggle.

Life had continued on rather slowly. He had started missing Osset're and Hylaarr terribly but knew it just wasn't a good idea to dwell on them too much. He was afraid his magic might notice if he did and try to get him there somehow. Dudley began spending a lot of time with his parents. His emotions seemed to swing a lot and Harry often felt sorry for him. The dynamics in the family had changed after years of the same routine. It was surly noticeable despite the fact that Dudley hadn't known about everything.

Exactly two months after Dumbledore's visit the Dursleys decided to visit Marge before the holidays ended. In the flurry of packing and loading the car Harry found himself conscripted into helping as the Dursley's sometime forgot about treating Harry nicely. After the car was loaded with Petunia and Vernon's things Dudley remembered something he had forgot to pack and disappeared upstairs.

Petunia and Vernon had sat at the kitchen table, exhausted after all the hustle. Snapping automatically at Harry to get them tea they had finally remembered him.

"Oh, Vernon what are we going to do with the boy!" She had wailed and absently picked at the table cloth.

"Well I know one thing, Marge won't tolerate this namby pamby nonsense about not hitting the boy." Vernon had grunted in disgust but looked fearfully toward the front hall. "If we take him he'd have to stay in the car."

Petunia had sneered. "He'd ruin it, Vernon. Might as well just leave him here."

Vernon had shifted uncomfortably. "But what if- _he_- finds out, Pet?"

"I suppose I better call Mrs. Figg." Petunia had said with a sigh and got up to get the phone.

Harry had bit his lip. "I could stay in the cupboard?" He had very quietly offered as Petunia passed him.

Automatically her hand had reached out and slapped him for his cheek. Harry had gasped but not because of his slap but because of the reddened hand print that suddenly appeared spread across the side of Petunia's face. She had gasped as well and pulled her hand like she had burned herself on him.

"Boy!" Vernon had started to bellow. Then the kettle sounded.

Harry froze, torn between what to do. Finally Vernon had snarled at him to 'get the damn kettle' and he had rushed over. In his haste he forgot the pot holder. Hissing he pulled his hand back before opening a drawer to look for it. The whistle sounded louder and Vernon's patience snapped.

"Now boy!" Harry had obeyed and, as he couldn't find the pot holder he had simply picked the kettle up and quickly poured a bit of boiling water into the waiting teapot before putting it back on the burner to heat up again. His hand had been red and blistering when he was through and it had been painful not to drop the teapot on the way to the table. Then he had set out cups and milk and sugar and hurried to find some of Petunia's fresh scones.

When he was finished he started to retreat but Petunia had grabbed his hand, gently though, and turned it over. Peering at it as if it were fruit she was inspecting she glanced once at Vernon. Harry had glanced too and saw a familiar light in his eyes. It was the same one he had before he would hit him without saying why. Finally she had released him and reached for the milk.

Petunia and Vernon didn't speak after that but quietly drank their tea finishing just in time as Dudley raced downstairs.

"He'll have to stay here then." Petunia said before getting up and taking her tea cup to the sink. "I'm not even sure if Mrs. Figg's at home.

"Fine." Vernon had replied cheerfully and left the kitchen. Petunia had abruptly turned to Harry and looked at him intently.

"While we're gone you may eat whatever you can find, boy, but no leaving." Harry had nodded. Petunia had tossed her head a bit and sneered. "Don't forget to make yourself some tea." With that she left. Harry had nodded once to himself before following after her.

Once Dudley and Petunia were in the car Vernon ushered Harry into the house and pulled out his key. "Do not leave boy." He had said gruffly and started to close the door. Then his eyes glinted unkindly and he snapped out, "And don't touch anything," before slamming the door.

As Harry heard the lock turn he sighed softly to himself. Don't touch anything. The Dursleys had always said that each time they left Harry alone in the house. Clearly impossible as he couldn't stand in one place the entire time. If anything he'd need to use the loo regularly. They always said it just to let him know he'd be getting a punishment when they returned. It was their way of saying welcome home.

To Harry it was a signal that things were getting back to normal. Punishments again. It was a good thing as he had actually started to forget them. It was a relief that they had found out a way around the spell. He might have started thinking he was normal if it had gone on any longer.

* * *

The Dursleys were gone three days. Religiously Harry made tea. Petunia like to think of them, the Dursleys not Harry, as of the upper crust, as posh, and served tea as if they were. She served tea with breakfast, and then around eleven she would have a cup by herself as Vernon wasn't home during the week. With lunch she sometimes served tea but since he had been going to school he didn't know for sure. She then would have afternoon tea at 4pm on the spot and always had a neighbor over. When they ate a late supper she'd serve tea again. She was fond of cream tea and would always serve scones and jam and clotted cream although Vernon though it was silly and 'much to expensive' to have so often.

Harry knew better than to use any of Petunia's tea things though, or even dare eat the left over scones that would no doubt be bad by the time they returned. He merely made a simple pot of tea and drank it with milk. He was careful not to use the pot holder, which he found in the dirty laundry, and a part of him welcomed the familiar feeling of pain. He had nursed his hand with an old ripped shirt of his that used to belong to Dudley and sipped his tea.

Harry hadn't had tea before. Actually Dudley had only had tea once after having a screaming tantrum over not getting to try it. Petunia had allowed him a cup in order to calm him and he ended up not liking it anyway, despite the fact that it was nearly milk and had so much sugar in it that even Dudley had claimed it too sweet. Harry didn't use sugar but he did use the milk. It would have gone bad if he hadn't. He found it rather nice and had the thought he'd like to have it again. Perhaps at Crescent.

Wincing he had realized he hadn't thought about Osset're and Hylaarr in a while. It had hurt to much to think about them. He knew he couldn't go back. He would have to somehow stop himself from going if his magic ever tried. It was sad but Harry was afraid if he ever went again they find a way of keeping him there. He couldn't let them keep him. He had to stay with the Dursleys.

The Dursleys had found a way around the spell.' He had thought to himself feeling very relieved. His world had suddenly felt right again. The fact that he was allowed to do more was the only thing that threw him. It was hard to eat once he had finally been punished again. He didn't want to. It meant things hadn't gone completely back to normal. But he had gotten used to eating, even put on some weight, and there was food the Dursleys had left that would go bad if it weren't eaten. Harry didn't want to give Petunia more excuses to punish him. He was positive she'd find enough on her own.

When the Dursleys returned it was late. They were tired from the drive back. Dudley went straight to bed. Petunia checked the phone for messages and then went to inspect the kitchen. Harry and Vernon followed her. Peering around she eyed the clean dishes and the empty fridge. Actually nodding in approval she stopped by a utensil drawer and pulled out a small, sharp, steak knife.

Walking over to him she was very nearly smiling. "Vernon told you not to touch anything, boy!" Her sharp snap had him cringing and looking down submissively. It had been longer than he thought if he had forgotten to keep his eyes on the ground. " Here, boy." She sounded very irritated but Harry could feel her glee in his throat.

She handed him the knife. Reaching out he had been very careful to take the knife in such a way as not to get cut. It would be very bad if he did and the spell cut her too. He had stood holding it unsure what to do.

"Boy." Harry very cautiously looked up. "Take the knife to your cupboard. Cut like this," She pulled a long fingernail horizontally across her arm. "If you cut the other way you'll cut a vein and bleed out. Should you do so, do not expect any help from us." She had held his eyes until he nodded, "One for every day we were gone," then made her way out of the kitchen. Vernon had looked at him with a smirk and then followed his wife.

That night Harry had cut his arm. It had hurt the first time. He had been tempted not to do it. But a part of him rejoiced. Pain. Punishment. As he watched the blood he had been sure he was right. He needed the punishments. Perhaps, one day, if he'd had enough then he'd be forgiven. For the stolen magic, for his role in his parents death. For being a freak. He had fallen asleep that night with a smile on his face.

The next morning Petunia had inspected his cut before Dudley came down. "Too shallow." She had said, her lips pursed. "See? There's barely a scab. Next time cut deeper."

He had gone to school and found that if he picked the scab he'd remember the punishment. It was helpful in making him remember to not act suspicious, not bring attention to himself. He had started planning ways to go unnoticed with wounds again. His magic had swirled behind his eyes, begging to heal him but he hadn't. He refused to use his magic.

For the next six months life was quiet. The Dursleys never yelled anymore. If Harry did something wrong Petunia would say, "Three tonight, boy," and life would carry on. Every morning before Dudley woke she would inspect his work. Sometimes she said nothing. Other times she would tell him to do them over and Harry would, on top of whatever else he earned that day. Harry soon found baths painful again, and the soap and water would sting when touching his wounds. And there were many. The only place that he didn't have them was his back, as he could reach, and his face.

Sometimes Vernon would punish him. He would be more creative and would specify where and with what Harry would use. Sometimes Vernon would bring something home and leave it in his cupboard. The first thing he had left was a lighter.

Harry soon grew very good at hurting himself in places no one saw but the Dursleys. He was careful not to cause wounds that would bleed at school. Burns were the easiest to inflict, endure, and hide. Plus they always pleased the Dursleys.

Only one time had Harry gone a bit too far and almost blacked out. Vernon had ordered Harry to sit with his head in a plastic bag for ten? minutes. "If you dare take the bag off before then, boy, I'll have you do it again and I'll make it an hour." Had had complied to the letter but had nearly blacked out. It was only his magic trying to draw him to Crescent that had shocked him awake again and had him pulling the plastic bag off.

The Dursleys almost became very pleasant people. With not having to deal out violence on a regular basis but still knowing Harry was getting his punishments the Dursleys were able to be pleasant and jolly most of the time. Vernon even started teaching Dudley how to play football after school. Harry was often in his cupboard but he'd hear them leave and then come back, loud with excitement and wheezing with the exercise.

Harry marveled at their soothing feelings when they weren't being reminded of Harry. He had always tried to remain unnoticed before but basking in their peaceful, happy, and positive emotions had given him more motive to do so. It made Harry realize that he was indeed right about being a freak. If just the lack of his presence caused such a reaction what would the Dursleys be like if he were gone? Good people perhaps. Normal and nice and happy. Such a shame he was there really. It made him feel guilty to bask in their positive feelings.

* * *

The emotions that Harry felt in his throat was obviously a form of magic. There was no other explanation. Harry had tried to stop but as he didn't know how he was doing it he really couldn't stop. In the library at school he had looked for books to explain it. He knew it wasn't something normal people did but he thought there might be a story or two about it. As it was he couldn't find anything and after a while he had grown so desperate for an answer one Saturday he had asked Petunia to take him to the local library.

Petunia had stared at him for a long while, incensed and irritated, as Harry knew by the feelings in his throat, and sometimes the whisper's added clarification. Then she had said yes and the next morning dropped him off until evening. Exactly at 7 pm the library closed and she had been there when he came out. That had set a weekend routine.

Harry couldn't find much about whatever it was he had. He went through book after book before stumbling across a story that mentioned anything like it. In the story it had been called empathy. The character in the book had been able to 'feel' other people's emotions as her own.

He had looked up empathy in the dictionary. The dictionary had defined it as the ability to share in another emotion's or feelings. Harry was certainly able to do that but that definition didn't assume it was a magical ability and Harry had continued to read.

Sympathy was defined as 'feeling sorry for someone."

Emotional contagion was defined as when a person, (especially a child) identifies with strong emotions others are showing and becomes subject to the same emotions themselves. Such as in the case of Dudley.

The Dursleys were actually rather predictable in their emotions, well Petunia and Vernon were. There had been the surprising exception of Dudley, who Harry had always thought to have rather simple emotions, actually surprised him by having logical ones. If there was an argument going on he was upset, if people were happy, so was he, if someone was scared, so was Dudley. It had surprised Harry to find out that Dudley would embrace Harry's emotions as well. It was almost like taking sides in an argument. It never meant Dudley stuck up for Harry, or stopped his torment, or any such thing. It just was a curious addition into his life and one Harry had come to appreciate.

Harry continued to search the library. Of all the books he found none suggested it was anything _magical_ and Harry had been growing desperate. He couldn't find a way to shut it off and feeling what everyone else felt was getting to be an unfair advantage. The whisper didn't really mind that but Harry had been trying not to listen to it as much as possible.

Finally Harry came across a book on psychics. It had a passage in it that described empathy the way Harry thought of it.

'Empathic psychic abilities link one mind to another, or sometimes one mind to many others. Not only do they include sharing feelings and sensations, but they also include understanding how a person thinks, and why they think that way.'

It went on to say that the receiving of emotions was actually a passive action as opposed to doing something active. In actuality it would be as impossible for him to turn off as turning off his sight.

It did say that water is the element of emotion. It recommended that placing bowls of water around the room would help absorb emotion. It also recommended learning a form of self defense in order to 'strengthen weak barriers'

But what had really made Harry pause was the small recommendation at the end of that chapter.

'Love yourself. Aren't you worth it after all? When you get down to it aren't you the most important person in your life? And don't you deserve to be loved by that person?'

But Harry had only been able to think that such a thing couldn't apply to him. The Dursleys were always telling him that no one could ever love _him_. Really only his mum and dad had been able to. With the forbidden magic he had how could anyone love him? He was horrid after all. A freak. And if no one could love him how could he possibly love himself.?

Do you even know what freak means? The whisper had snorted with disgust.

After exhausting the extent of the library Harry was forced to give up. The empathy wasn't that bad. In fact it was shockingly unobtrusive compared to some of the stories he had found. And it was useful. Being able to hear the Dursleys was shockingly pleasant when they weren't thinking about Harry. When they were thinking about him it was . . . helpful. He was able to stem tirades, calm tempers, and allow punishments when it was more _convenient_ to endure them.

In the end it all came down to manipulation. Harry had come across the word in the dictionary and been shocked to find a word for what he did. He manipulated people. The Dursleys, Dumbledore, his teachers, even strangers. It made life much easier for Harry if everyone simply thought the way he wanted them too. He'd never force them to think that way, such as with magic, but if they did it on their own because of the information he gave what was the harm? The whisper also approved and tried to help but as Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the whisper was his magic talking to him he refused to listen. That was what was wrong with his whole world. The magic refused to leave. Well like or not Harry was determined to get rid of it somehow.

* * *

Summer was set to begin when everything fell apart. Yesterday Vernon had come home from work early. Petunia had dropped Harry off at the house after school and taken Dudley to get ice cream. Harry had found it rather odd that he didn't seem to want to get ice cream but hadn't time to explore that before he was ushered out of the Bentley and left to make his own way into the house.

Vernon surprised him. Harry had been sitting at the kitchen, taking advantage of the empty house in order to finish the last piece of homework Professor Peter had set for the year. He didn't even hear Vernon come in and so knocked over his glass of water when Vernon's heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.

Vernon had squeezed his shoulder, almost hard enough to hurt, and growled at him to clean up the mess before he made himself a sandwich and sat down. Harry scrambled to soak up the water, upset as some of his papers had gotten wet. They were old though and he grabbed them, about to toss them, when Vernon snatched one out of his hands.

Harry froze. It was a spelling test. One he hadn't studied for and therefore hadn't planned which words to miss. The Dursleys were rather blinded by how wonderful they believed their son was. Even if he did something wrong they would blame anyone else before him. Dudley had learned from their example and whenever he did something that could possibly objectionable he would holler 'Harry did it!' or 'Harry made me do it!' or 'I couldn't see as Harry's big head was in the way.'

Blinded as they were they couldn't understand that Dudley wasn't very smart. Whenever Dudley came home with a poor grade they would find any excuse to explain away why. The teachers, the students, the circumstances, the fact that it was Monday, and of course Harry. Harry had been very careful, especially since that first week of school, to never do better than Dudley. His grades were always just as poor or poorer, not very hard as Harry never did homework and made sure to miss most of the questions on quizzes and tests.

Harry had only missed two on the test that Vernon was now holding. He had forgotten to look over the words and see how not to spell them. And when the test had come around it had been the end of the day and Harry had been in a hurry to finish and get out the door to Petunia. She didn't like it when Harry kept her waiting. He had gotten a very good score and Dudley had barely passed that one.

Harry could feel his anger rise as he looked at the sopping wet paper. Watery blue eyes stared at Harry for a very long moment.

"Think you're something, don't you boy." Vernon had whispered. "Think you're smart?"

Harry had shook his head but Vernon hadn't even paid attention. "I think you're not as smart at the teacher thinks, boy!" He had shook with fury and his fist had crumple the paper into a wet mush. "I think you're a sorry little cheat, and you desperately need a good beating to keep you in line. Only one of those FREAKS did something and I can't even give you the smack you deserve!"

He had suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Harry by the shirt and pulled him close enough to his face that Harry could smell the onions he'd put on his sandwich. "Believe me, boy, the next time you step out of line. The very next time I _will_ find a way around that rubbish the freak did. And you will get everything thats been months in coming."

With a little push he released Harry and sent him to the cupboard. That night, after supper, Petunia had ordered Harry to punish himself. "Five will teach you not to cheat." She had said, her lips pursed and he had felt her disgust like vomit in his throat. It was the ruddy empathy that did it. Harry had been able to handle Vernon's rage. He had sat in his cupboard and shook a bit afterwards but he had been able to handle it. Petunia's disgust had been worse though. He could almost imagine his very presence making her sick up and he had picked up the knife with the intention of punishing himself for being so horrible.

But he had miss judged. Perhaps he had gotten so caught up in the pain, or perhaps his hand simply slipped but he cut too deep and the wounds wouldn't close.

This morning Petunia had inspected them and found them still bleeding. "Don't think you'll get out of going to school, boy." Her upper lip had curled in disgust at the blood. "Bind it before you go."

But it had been a mistake to go with the wounds still bleeding. Professor Peter had noticed. Harry still wasn't sure how he could do that but when Professor Peter had begun to hover Harry had left class and spent the rest of it in the loo. 'Just today.' He had whispered. 'Just get through today.'

At lunch Professor Peter had grabbed him by the hurt arm in order to pull him into his office. Harry hadn't been able to help his hiss of distress.

"Get off," He had growled and Professor Peter had let go.

"How did you get hurt, Harry?" He had looked at Harry with pure concern and that tickle in his throat had come back.

Harry had stared at him hatefully. The Professor had already tried to get at the Dursleys once, and had failed. If he tried again Harry could merely heal himself. He didn't see anything wrong in telling the truth.

"Punishment." He had lifted his chin. He was not ashamed. The punishments were necessary after all.

"For what?" Rage had begun to choke Harry. Dangerous. The whisper had said in his ear. He's dangerous.

Harry had ignored the whisper and breathed out a quick breath. "I got a better grade than Dudley." Harry ignored the anger stabbing his throat. Oddly there was also sadness and concern in his throat as well. Like there were two people in the room instead of just Peter. Wolves inside him. The whisper giggled strangely. Harry ignored it.

"I shouldn't have done that." Although he clarified it didn't seem to calm Professor Peter's rage at all.

"Harry." Peter strangely sounded calm. Only sadness was underneath the tone. "Punishments are not for things like that. Punishments shouldn't be like that. The Dursleys-"

"Are loving, caring guardians. They teach me right from wrong. They help me." Harry's magic had tried to surface but he had pushed it back down. "Nothing you say will make me think differently."

"But, do they love you, Harry?"

No said the whisper. "I am unlovable." Harry had snarled.

Professor Peter had shook his head. "How can you be unlovable, Harry, when I love you so much?"

Harry had shuddered at that and abruptly turned around and left. That had been the last time he would ever see Professor John James Peter.

Petunia had a doctor's appointment that afternoon and Harry had to walk home by himself as Dudley was walking home seperately with Piers. He could have kicked himself when he realized he had forgotten to tell Professor Peter to stay away from Dudley.

Back at home he had found a note for him in his cupboard from Petunia. Five was all it said but Harry knew what it meant. Situating himself in the cupboard he began. One cut to introduce the pain. Another to remind Harry it was punishment. The next for getting caught by Professor Peter.

Dudley had came home before he could do another and Harry paused but Dudley made his way to the kitchen. He knew he should have stopped. He knew the Dursleys didn't want Dudley knowing about the more violent Punishments. Dudley was a child after all. Seeing such things could scar him for life. What had that mage said. Ahh yes. Children are emotionally fragile or something like it.

Harry waited but after a bit Dudley had started eating and Harry _knew_ that he'd be while. He waited a bit more to be safe before cutting into his arm again. That one was for cutting too deep last night. And the next for . . . for almost believing Professor Peter. He felt the knife bit into his skin and he dragged it down painfully-

The cupboard door had flown open. Harry had froze and stared at Dudley. Dudley stared back for the longest time.

"Harry." He finally breathed staring at Harry's arms in horror. The blood had drained from his face until he was nearly white. He couldn't say anymore and simply gaped at Harry. Harry had only been able to discern his shock as wind in his throat.

Harry cringed. Now Dudley knew. Harry was more of a freak then he'd ever thought. He knew about the punishments and about how bad he was.

Finally he brought up the courage to speak. "Punishment." Harry whispered it. "Aunt ordered." Half of him expected Dudley to smirk at him, or laugh. He didn't. In fact Harry could feel his horror growing. And his disgust.

Vernon was going to kill him.

"Don't tell you saw, Dudley, Please" Harry begged his cousin not to tell. It was wrong. Harry was at fault. He had let Dudley find out about the punishments and he really ought to take whatever was coming but he just couldn't. The Dursleys would toss him out. They'd dump him off a bridge. They'd wash their hands of him. The whisper was telling him to run. Run. Flee. Escape. But Harry just couldn't. How could he? He needed the Dursleys.

"You bleeding, Harry." Dudley had calmed down a bit it seemed. He was back to pointing out the obvious. Good. Maybe he wouldn't care. Maybe he wouldn't mention it.

"Yeah." Harry had whispered. "Its okay, Dudley. I deserved the Punishment." He had looked down absently seeing the blood that he'd shed.

"What'd you do?" Dudley had whispered back.

Oh. Well he couldn't tell Dudley about the test. It'd make him feel bad. And it might make Dudley angry enough to say something and get Harry in more trouble. And he couldn't tell about the Punishment he mucked up.

"I haven't done my chores for today." He had lied and tried to look guilty.

Dudley's emotions had leveled out into just disbelief. "Lucy does the chores now. Your not allowed."

"Yeah." Well who knew Dudley could be so observant?

Finally Harry couldn't handle it anymore and motioned him to scoot back. Dudley did and Harry had closed the cupboard door.

* * *

Oh he was so dead. The Dursleys weren't home yet but they would be soon enough. Harry had heard Dudley go back to the kitchen and carefully he had brought the knife down, finishing the cut. Then he had literally tossed it away. It had hit the cupboard wall falling to lie half in and half out of the pool of blood on the floor. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off it since then.

Panic made him breath harshly. How could he explain this? How could anything make this better. Dudley _knew_. He had always known a bit, about the cupboard and such, but the actual _punishments_ had been kept from him. For good reason. He was just a child. He didn't need to know about them. He might be a bit of a bully and a downright prat at times but Harry wouldn't wish punishments on anyone let alone a child.

The front door opened and Petunia was home. She went to start on supper. A bit later Vernon arrived and then Petunia called Harry to the table. Dudley wasn't there to Harry's surprise. He must have gone upstairs. It disturbed him that he hadn't even noticed.

Dudley came in a bit later and Harry was nearly bowled over by his emotions. He radiated anger and pain and despair. And fear. Harry didn't look up he was so floored.

Petunia noticed and began fussing. She checked for a fever and then resorted to the age old cure. Food. She piled his plate high but Harry could feel his queasy stomach. For once Dudley didn't want to eat.

Vernon didn't seem to notice as he was obviously tired. Grunting at Harry he ordered him to pass the roast. Usually Harry had used magic to handle something so heavy but as he wasn't using magic he didn't. He also was so distracted by Dudley's feelings he forgot that he wouldn't be able to lift it. And then it went crashing to the floor.

Utter silence.

Then Vernon had roared at him to get to his cupboard. Dudley's jolt of pure fear nearly made him pause but Vernon's red face had him rushing to escape the kitchen taking one last look at Dudley before he left.

"Why don't you just punish him here, dad?" Harry heard Dudley say very quietly and he froze. "After all you have a knife right there."

Silence. Oh no.

"Its not like I don't know after all." Dudley sounded, smug.

Run said the whisper but Harry hadn't been able to move.

Suddenly the kitchen door swung out and Harry was too quick to escape getting hit. He gasped in surprise. Vernon came through it and roared with pain as the spell made itself known. Grabbing Harry by the arm he dragged Harry to the cupboard and flung it open. He had to let go of Harry in order to reach in and grab the knife but then he had Harry's arm in a vice grip. It hurt and surly Vernon was hurting as well but the madness in his eyes didn't seem to care.

"I told you, boy." He whispered spitting the words in Harry's face. "I told you. Now its time to pay. Take the damned freakish rubbish off!" Although he spoke in a whisper it sounded like he was shouting.

Harry shook his head. "I can-can't, Uncle." He had whispered back. "Unless I use ma-"

Vernon shook him very hard. "Don't use that word, Boy! Just do it!"

Harry stared at him.

Run. The whisper was hissing at him. If you're going to have to use magic anyway use it to get yourself out of here.

But the only place Harry truly wanted to be was Crescent. And getting there involved doing as Vernon said. It didn't even register that Harry had decided not to go back.

Very carefully he pulled out some liquid light, it had been bubbling at the surface waiting to be used, and pulled it into his 'hand.' Then he whispered at it to find the bumblebee's magic and remove it. The magic laughed and seemed to whisper back.

Then suddenly he was being filled. Magic everywhere, as it hadn't been for months. It filled him up and then left and touched Vernon and some sped into the kitchen and more and more leaked out of him. He felt overly full, as if he had drank too much water. He felt filled with it. With magic that sang and danced, celebrating its freedom. And more and more poured out. Until suddenly it didn't.

Vernon smelled of fear. He was shaking. "Is it gone?" He was barely able to get out.

Harry looked at him and felt pity. "Yes Uncle"

Vernon nodded and grabbed him, swinging him around, his hand still gripping Harry's arm. There was an awful snap that made Harry scream and then Vernon was behind him and the knife bit into his throat. Harry could feel hot pain and then blood and Vernon pulled it across.

Then he let go and Harry fell to the ground a hand reaching out to catch himself even as his other reached to his throat. He couldn't feel any emotions then. Not his and not his Vernon's. Quietly he felt himself fading. Blackness snuck into his vision and the pain started to fade. Blood still poured over his hand but he made no move to heal himself. He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

'What happened?' he thought dazedly. He slit your throat the whisper replied.

Oh. Harry couldn't even feel shock.

He head Petunia's scream very distantly. "You've killed him!"

And then he was gone.

* * *

**Aren't I just a bitch?**

**Fiftul.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, ok. ok. I_ know. _Dudley. Not everyone's favorite character. Not mine either. Until I started this chapter. I've always had rather grand plans for Dudley and now he's actually tolerable if not enjoyable. He actually was very easy to write and this chapter kinda took off on its own. **

**Just the same warnings for last chapters here.**

**Sorry. No Crescent here or Hylaarr and Osset're re. You'll see them next chapter.**

* * *

July 30th

Morning.

Dudley was not smart. Everyone knew that. His teachers knew, and his classmates. Even his miserable cousin Harry knew but then Dudley had come to the conclusion that Harry was smarter then him and would therefore know. The only people who did not know were his parents. Dudley would have liked to think that they were merely being polite in not mentioning it but if anything Vernon and Petunia Dursley lacked, and in actuality they lacked quite a lot, it was the ability to be polite.

No Dudley was not smart. But he also wasn't as dumb as everyone thought he was. For instance Dudley knew he was fat. He knew he ate more than other kids did and therefore was larger than them. He didn't really mind because although they might say mean things about him behind his back they never said them to his face. Well at least not after that first time.

It was fairly easy for word to spread around that Dudley was a bully. As big as he was the first time he had instinctively used his fists to get what he wanted, as he was used to doing at home, he had knocked the kid down hard enough to make him cry. That had surprised him. It really had. The reason was because whenever Dudley knocked his cousin down he never cried.

That was when he realized something wasn't right.

When Dudley was five Harry started cleaning his room. He didn't realize it at first as his mum would distract him with a snack but one day he finished early and ran up the stairs to his room only to stop short in the doorway. Surprise held him speechless as he found his cousin struggling with the vacuum . Harry, on the other hand, had paled upon seeing him and quickly finished before scrambling around him and out the door flinching as Dudley automatically threw a punch his way.

After that Dudley made sure to hurry and finish in order to sneak up and watch. He didn't know why he did it. He supposed it was the novelty at first. His mum hand been the one to clean before but she did it much faster. Harry had to pick up all the strewn toys and put them in order first. Then gather the dirty laundry that hadn't made its way to the hamper yet and make the bed. That was always a sight to see. Harry being younger was obviously smaller than Dudley and removing the sheets alone was tricky business. Then he would have to wrestle the vac in order to get it to clean the carpet. All in all it was rather a fascinating thing to watch but Dudley never knew why.

The first time Harry had sucked up one of Dudley's toys into the vacuum he threw a crying, bellowing fit and his mum came running as she always did. After frantically checking him over she shrieked at Harry to explain. Quietly Harry had and, angry at the loss of his toy, Dudley had burst into even more tears and wailed that he had done it on purpose. His mum had fussed over him and hissed at Harry to 'take that darn thing' outside and get it opened up. After promising Dudley she would make sure he got his toy back she had followed Harry.

Dudley had hurried to dry his face and rushed after her, anxious to see how ruined it was when it had gone threw all those pipes, but had stopped short when he saw his mum, standing at the edge of the stairs, gripping Harry's arm a bit to tightly. "Boy, you are going to learn." She said, finishing what seemed to be a lecture. Dudley was quite familiar with Harry getting lectures by then. But suddenly his mum gave a little push and Harry toppled over, still gripping the vac, and disappeared down the stairs. There was a horrible series of thuds and then a crack and a crunch. His mum had sneered like she did at the muck she found in the sink and started down after him. Slightly worried about his cousin he crept to the banister to peer down. Dudley had fallen down the stairs the year before. Only half way but he had still broken his arm. Remembering the pain he was relieved not to hear any tears. His cousin must not have been hurt that much if he wasn't crying.

But had Harry lay at the bottom holding his wrist. The heavy metal vacuum was also down at the bottom of the stairs lying on his leg which looked a bit off after the fall. He was very pale and was biting his lip like he did sometimes after a private lecture with Dudley's dad. Tears had gathered in his eyes but he didn't let them fall and Dudley was slightly impressed. He waited for his mum to, not hug Harry perhaps as she never did that, but maybe offer him a sweet? His mum always said sugar made any pain go away. But she didn't. Instead she shrieked at him not to be so clumsy. "GET UP, Boy!" She had hissed. His cousin had tried to obey but his hurt wrist had made it difficult to push the vacuum off and his leg must have been hurt as well as it collapsed underneath him when he tried to stand. When he wasn't quick about getting back up his mum let out a slap to his head that made it visibly snap back.

That was when Dudley first learned what a punishment was.

That evening after Harry was thrown outside to spend the night after sicking up all over the clean kitchen floor Dudley decided to ask why.

His mum had pursed her lips, as she always did when discussing Harry. "Punishment." She had snapped. "Nothing for you to worry about Dudley dear."

Dudley had gone back to eating but had wondered. He remembered falling down the stairs. It had hurt and his mum and dad had rushed him to the ER quicker then he could complain much about it. But Harry wasn't even being let off chores to go to bed early. He was thrown out in the yard like one of Aunt Marge's dogs after nipping Dudley's hand. Dudley had concluded if punishment was like that he didn't ever want to get one.

* * *

After that Dudley didn't pay much attention to his cousin's punishments. It wasn't as if they weren't deserved after all. His mum was always saying what a disobedient and horrid boy Harry was. If his cousin didn't want punishments then he shouldn't do things that got him them.

But that didn't hold up very long as Dudley soon discovered that his cousin and himself weren't exactly equal in the Dursley household.

It happened that Dudley broke a dish one evening. A very expensive piece of china. His mum was very sad. She had cried when she ordered Harry to pick up the pieces and throw them out before putting the rest of the good china away. "Dudley's just not old enough to enjoy tea with expensive things yet." She had said to his dad and patted Dudley softly on the shoulder in an its-ok kinda way.

His dad had chuckled gruffly and agreed. "Maybe next year, Pet." He had said and made a face when his mum had looked away. His dad didn't care much for tea.

But suddenly there was a crash. His mum had gasped and rushed into the next room his dad barely a step behind her. Curious Dudley had followed. And there was another piece of his mum's good china strewn in pieces all over the floor. He had waited for his mum to burst into tears again but she didn't. She just stood there staring at Harry for the longest time while Harry had whispered apologies and cringed. A loud smack startled Dudley into jumping. Her ring had made a small cut on Harry's cheek and he had fallen into the broken glass. And when she picked up a larger piece of the china plate and stabbed it threw his cousin's hand Dudley had backpedaled so fast he was nearly sick. It also might have been Harry's blood pouring all over the carpet that made his stomach queasy

Hurrying back to the table he had vowed fiercely _never_ to break a dish again. His mum and dad had stayed in the other room for quite a long while and once he heard a stifled scream. In order to distract himself he had stuffed a biscuit into his mouth, despite his queasy stomach, and drank his tea. After another biscuit or so his stomach had settled into normal routine and he had found the sound of his chewing drown out any _other_ sounds that could be heard. When his parents came back he didn't even look up.

"We took too long to punish the boy, Pet" His dad had chuckled. "Dudder's is ready for super, now."

His mum had looked over at him and smiled sweetly. "Well can't let my dumpling be hungry," she said and got up to start cooking.

A bit later he had wandered into the kitchen and found his mum chopping vegetables with a knife. She did it quite fast and he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off it remembering as she stabbed the glass threw his cousin's hand. Feeling a bit sick he asked for a snack and sat at the table eating 'til supper trying to drown out the sound of her chopping and the memory of blood.

After that Dudley did what any normal child who had been raised by Petunia and Vernon Dursley would do. He blamed Harry for everything. At first he blamed Harry for his parents having to punish him like that. It really wasn't fair he had told himself. They gave up time they could have spent on Dudley in order to punish his cousin. Dudley began to resent his cousin and blame him for everything, getting him in trouble just out of spite. Than when he realized his parent would spend more time with Harry behind closed doors when he did that so he stopped doing it so much. He wanted his parents to spend time with him after all.

But secretly, a part of him was afraid of them. Of what made them like that around Harry. He started having nightmares. In them his parents thought he was Harry and kept hitting him and hitting him. And it had hurt so bad he had woken up crying, grateful when his mum came in and held him, assuring him, though she didn't know it, that she wasn't the monster in his nightmares. After a particularly bad night he woke early and went downstairs only to stop before entering the kitchen. Hearing Harry getting a lecture for being a freak had halted him in his tracks. When his mum started accusing his cousin of giving him nightmares he had taken a deep breath and walked in, interrupting his mum mid-sentence. After that he was quieter when he woke up in the middle of the night.

It was that fear that made his cousin's life worse. He was terribly afraid that his parents would punish him the way they did Harry. Perversely he started acting up. Throwing more fits, breaking things, evening using a cuss word he'd heard Pier's dad say. They never did anything to him which helped sooth the fear and also had the added bonus of getting him more time with them. But as easy as it was to develop a habit of throwing a fit he also developed one of blaming Harry when he did something wrong. Such as eat the dessert his mum had been saving for tea with the neighbor ladies or breaking something such as his toys. His parents had never shown the slightest sign of wanting to punish him as they did Harry but that fear that they would one day remained.

After that whenever Harry had private lectures with his mum and dad Dudley would eat. He would shove whatever was near into his mouth and ignore what was going on. Whenever he noticed new punishments on Harry, which was rather rare as Harry wore long sleeves and never cried, he ignored those too. Sometime, when he noticed his mum or dad getting mad at Harry he would bring up an achievement he had done in school, or tell a story, or even throw a fit over something. He didn't always do that but sometimes.

* * *

Dudley first discovered Harry could do magic when a wizard came to the house. It was the day after they had gone to get Harry's shots for school and they had abruptly gone home without Harry. Dudley hadn't been able to figure it out on the drive home but he hadn't dared ask. His parents had been so pale and silent he had merely went on eating a chocolate bar his mum had pulled out of her purse before she got in the driver's seat and stayed silent too. Late that night he had heard his dad get into the trunk of the Bentley and then, a bit later, heard the cupboard door slam shut. Visualizing his dad doing up the locks he had closed his eyes very tightly and went to sleep.

The next day Harry wasn't there and there were indeed locks on the cupboard. His mum and day were anxious all morning. He had sat watching the tellie until noon when his mum finally snapped at him to 'Shut that darn thing off!' and do something quiet in his room. More shocked that she had spoken to _him_ that way then at her tone he had grabbed a handful of biscuits and went upstairs. When he was safe in his room with the door closed he flicked on the tellie, turned it up loud, and proceeded to ignore whatever was going to go on downstairs.

Around late afternoon he had gotten hungry. Having finished the biscuits a long time ago he switched off the tellie and thought about going to see if there was supper. Listening intently he had heard nothing but silence and had taken his time trying to decide if that was good or bad. The sick feeling in his stomach was back though and he really wanted some food to calm him down. Absently he walked to the window and to his surprise the most shocking sight greeted him. A old man in a bright yellow dress, matching hat, and what looked like a red bath robe was walking down the street. Dudley had stared, trying to figure out if he had ever seen him before. The only old person who lived on Privet Drive was Mrs. Figg and she wasn't nearly as ancient as this strange old man appeared to be.

To Dudley's further amazement the old man headed towards number 4 and stopped just outside the walk. He had stood there watching for a moment before pulling out an old pocket watch, sighing, and appearing to wait as if for an appointment. Dudley had studied the strange man closer, positive he was one of those crazy freaks his dad was always on about. The fact that he didn't know what a freak was exactly or that his dad's definition of freak did indeed match the old man waiting patiently outside number 4 privet drive didn't really strike Dudley as the coincidence his inward thought was. Suddenly the old man had put his watch away and stepped onto the front path leading to the door.

In a rush Dudley hurried to the banister, trying to be quiet but eager to see what the old man wanted. A brrring as the door bell sounded and then the click, click, click of his mum's heels on the hard wood floor.

"Good Evening. Petunia Dursley I presume?" The crazy old man didn't sound very crazy at first. Instead he spoke in a courteous but grave tone. Something in Dudley's stomach slipped out of place. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dudley almost laughed but his' mum's genuine gasp of fright stopped him. Then the crazy old man asked to speak to Harry and the sick feeling in Dudley's stomach nearly made him sick up.

When the old man refused to let his mum say no Dudley thought he knew what was going on. The lady, Mrs. Mooney, who came just after Harry started school had the same tone as the old man. It was a strict, no nonsence tone. His teachers often used it on him in school and Aunt Marge had once used it on him after he stole candy out of her handbag without asking. It was a tone that made him think his parents were the ones who had done something bad and were now going to get in trouble.

The crazy old man entered the house and pleasantly led the way to the sitting room while Dudley's mum trailed behind, her fingers clutching each other painfully tight. When he entered the sitting room Dudley could no longer see what was going on and he was forced to creep down the stairs in order to hear. When the old man asked Harry how he was Dudley was again reminded of Mrs. Mooney and held his breath waiting for Harry's answer.

He needn't have worried though. It seemed the old man was rather barmy after all, as he started on about Halloween and then Harry's parents. As Dudley had never had someone he knew die he didn't really much understand Harry's quieter tone. But then everything got real quiet and Dudley started to worry that something had happened. Something real bad.

But then the old man was talking again and indeed it seem he was a bit off in his head.

"I suppose you know about Lord Voldemort then Harry?" The old man had asked. Dudley hadn't been able to see anything so he didn't know Harry's answer but the old man conveniently explained.

"You see years ago that dark wizard was nothing more than a boy your age. He lived in a rather grim orphanage as his parents had died too. And he also had magic." Dudley had almost laughed but his dad had made a muted strangled sound and Dudley had gulped down the amusement in dismay. "He was able to gain a semblance of control over it at a very young age but sadly he also had a tendency towards cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"Do you know why, sir?" Harry had asked a bit louder than he had been speaking before. Dudley had heard the old man sigh.

"When children are left to their own devices, ignored, or neglected they do not learn right from wrong. Then, perhaps, others are cruel towards them," There was a deliberate pause that made Dudley swallow hard. "It teaches them to be cruel back. I believe such a thing happened to the young Voldemort and he was forever scarred by it. When he grew up he simply sought to make sure if there was pain others suffered it and not him."

Biting his lip he had stopped listening in order to process that. For some reason that rang a bell. It sounded like something that could apply to Harry, especially if the crazy old man wasn't so crazy and Harry really was a wizard or whatever. But uncomfortably it also sounded as if it could apply to him as well. At least the part about him not learning right from wrong and making sure others would hurt before he would. It was what he had been doing all along. Pushing Harry into the line of fire just in case his parent might aim his way.

"Utter nonsense."His dad suddenly bellowed. Only his dad sounded real bad, like he had that one time he got pneumonia. His bellow sounded more like broken car but he was able to pick up volume once he started. "That boy killed him! You said so it the letter you left with him on the front stoop! He is a murderer! An evil murdering little bas-"

"_Enough." _Dudley had been grateful. His stomach was hurting enough without having to listen to another tirade about Harry.

"Six years ago I brought you a child whose life I feared for should he be left unprotected. The magic I evoked means that Harry has powerful protection while he can call this house home. I left you a letter explaining his parent's murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dudley had wanted to whimper but didn't dare. The old man suddenly didn't sound so old. He sounded scary. And Dudley was very scared.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and violent cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy in those pictures on your mantle."

Gaping Dudley hadn't been able to process that for a while. He had known about the punishments, they had made him sick to think about, but he had never once thought of his _parents_ that way. And the barmy old goat had accused his parents of hurting _Dudley_. He might have not been smart but he'd think he would have noticed if he had had 'appalling damage inflicted' on him.

It was the wind that drew his attention again. It was like a wind had entered the house and tried to blow it away. It was like there was thunder and lightening inside as well. Dudley just couldn't see any of it. He was nearly positive that if he had been in the sitting room he wouldn't have seen it either.

Magic.

That was when he knew magic was real.

"You will never again be able to physically harm Harry Potter." The old man said it quietly but Dudley knew he would never be able to doubt that it would happen the way he said it would. "Should you do so the magic I have used will rise up and do to you exactly what you do to the boy."

Frowning he had tried to work that out but the old man had suddenly walked out of the sitting room and was staring straight at him. He hadn't even the time to dredge up fear before the old man nodded very gravely at him and left quietly out the front door. He hadn't taken time to even breath before he was up the stairs and once again safe in his room with the door shut.

Lying on his bed he had told himself that the old man was barmy and he shouldn't believe a thing he said. The problem was he did.

* * *

That weekend was the worst. His mum was either with his dad behind the closed door of their bedroom as he was sick or crying in the bathroom. Harry never came out at except for a trip to the loo. Dudley was mainly left to his own devices and he found it much simpler to eat. He tried to do homework once, as he had a test the next Monday, but he couldn't concentrate. Finally he called up Piers and asked him if he could spend the night at his house. Piers had said his cousin was in town visiting for a month or so but he could come over if he wanted.

The next day at school he failed his test and punched a kid who had the nerve to laugh at his poor grade. Professor Peter had asked him to stay after and as Piers had detention with their maths teacher he had called his mum and said he'd be home after spending time at Piers' house. She hadn't seemed much concerned by that and Dudley had felt sick again when he hung up.

Professor Peter had gently started on about how failing the last test had made it difficult for him to pass at the end of the year.

"I'm sorry, Dudley, but if you don't want to repeat this year your going to have to do much better from now on." His yellow eyes had looked at Dudley and suddenly softened. "Is everything alright, Dudley?" He had asked even more gently and something inside Dudley had broke.

Tears, real tears of fear and heartbreak had welled up and he had started sobbing right in front of his professor. It was so different from crying about a treat he wanted or a toy he didn't have yet. It was work, this type of crying, with heaving sobs and much shaking. Professor Peter had been kind though, and simply laid a hand on Dudley's shoulder and made an odd comforting sound with his mouth.

Finally empty he had sagged into his chair and found himself leaning against Professor Peter's carefully patched vest. Professor Peter had smelled of woods and smoke and of chamomile tea. His hand had stroked his hair softly and he had been very quiet. It was such a change from his mum's frantic sympathy. She hated his crying and would do anything to make it stop which usually ended up with giving him a new toy or sweet. Professor Peter did none of that and Dudley strangely found himself liking his quiet comfort better.

Finally Professor Peter asked what was wrong. He had been expecting it. "Did something happen, Dudley?"

Dudley wasn't smart but he wasn't stupid. He knew Harry hated Professor Peter and it had something do with the commotion at the beginning of the school year and Mrs. Mooney's visit to their house. He knew he really shouldn't say a thing to Professor Peter, especially about his parents, especially about _Harry _but he was so tired of it all; and he was so stressed.

"My parents have been acting funny." He had muttered into the professor's stomach and refused to look up.

"Ahh." Was all Professor Peter had said at first. Then, "When did that start?"

Dudley had hiccuped. "Friday." He had muttered.

Professor Peter had stroked his hair gently. "Did anything happen?"

Dudley had snorted. Of course something had happened. "Nothing I saw." He was thinking hard but really could only remember eating a lot and ignoring Harry. "But my dad was got real sick and we had to go home. He couldn't stop shaking."

Professor Peter had hmmd soothingly. "What about Harry?"He had asked softly.

Dudley had hesitated a bit before replying. "He slept." There had probably been some sort of punishment. There always was. But that didn't explain his dad in such bad shape.

Professor Peter hadn't answered but Dudley didn't care. He had finally started talking and now he was going to continue. "And then today a strange man visited."

"Oh. Who was he?"

Dudley could feel himself grow angry. He really didn't like that old man. "Just some barmy old man in a dress." Professor Peter's hand had stopped stroking hair for a second before continuing.

"Odd that." He said absently. "Did he say why he called?"

Dudley had shrugged and remained silent after that. It finally occurred to him that Professor Peter was fishing. He clearly wanted to know information about Harry. As he packed up his things he had sighed. Why was everything about Harry? It just seemed unfair.

But softly Professor Peter had offered to help him after school to bring up his grades. "A tutor if you will, Mr Dursley." He had smiled at the title like it was a joke. That smile had reached his eyes and in that instance Dudley had known he was talking to _Dudley_ and that was what he liked. Smiling back he had agreed.

His dad was sick all that week and Dudley thought it best to let him rest. He decided to work on his grades so his mum would have one less thing to worry about. Now and then he'd see Harry but he looked just as pale as his dad did and didn't go to school that week. With nothing better to do Dudley began staying after with Professor Peter and lied to his mum about it as he wasn't sure if she'd like it or not.

* * *

He liked Professor Peter. He was calming, and polite, and very quiet. He would serve tea and although he served biscuits too they were really expensive ones. With all the patches on his clothes Dudley wasn't sure he could afford them and was very careful to only take on each day. The small smile the professor gave him showed he noticed but he never said anything.

Dudley had fast learned how to enjoy the one on one attention to it's fullest potential. He merely mentioned how Harry was when he saw him that morning first. Professor Peter would relax after that and then focus on patiently teaching Dudley whatever he hadn't been able to grasp in class. After the day's studies were out of the way they would talk quietly. Dudley learned bits of every thing about odd things. For instance if a rat could fit his head through a hole then the rest of him would follow. Such information was rather useless in Dudley's opinion but when he told the professor that Peter would smile softly and say, "Your intelligent enough to figure out when you need it, Dudley, so just keep it in your brain until you do."

Harry was back at school the second week. It was Wednesday when Dudley came to class to find a substitute in Professor Peter's place. Anxious he had waited after school by Peter's office but he had never come. Neither was he there the next day. It was Lunch Friday before Dudley saw him. He was sitting at the lunch table with the other professors but he looked downright terrible. After school Dudley met him at his office like usual but it was obvious, even to him, that Professor Peter was in no shape to be tutoring him. Despite that Peter had tried, starting a lecture about history. Dudley had ignored that and poured tea for them both, before getting up to reach the tins of biscuits.

"The chocolate ones today, Dudley, if you please." Was all Professor Peter said but he ended up eating three. Dudley was secretly relieved. If the professor had an appetite perhaps he wasn't that sick.

"And how are you today, Dudley?"

Dudley had smiled brightly. "Fine, sir. I got a good grade on my music test yesterday."

"Very good. And how is Harry?" Dudley blinked at the rather blatant question but answered it anyway. "Err, ok. He's not at all sick anymore."

Professor Peter had looked at him and smiled his thanks.

"Err-" Dudley wasn't exactly sure how to put it but he had to ask. "How are you, sir?"

His smile had gotten sad. "Today isn't the best of days, Dudley, but I'm sure by next week I'll be better."

Dudley had nodded but asked anyway, just to make sure. "How do you know?"

Professor Peter had looked at him intently before answering. "A long time ago, when I was a child about your age, I was hurt very badly. As a result I get sick sometimes. It only lasts a few days, though, and then I get better."

Dudley had nodded frowning. What had hurt him? And it happened when he was a kid? Biting his lip he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"Was it your parents?" Dudley had asked very softly. "Did they hurt you?"

Professor Peter had grown very still before he set his cup down and leaned forward despite his pain at doing so. "No, Dudley. Parents aren't supposed to do things like that."

It had been a bit hard to breathe. Dudley remembered feeling dizzy when he repeated that to himself. Forcing himself to look up he had looked into Professor's eyes that seemed to be much darker then they were before.

"What about for Punishments?" Dudley had whispered not really wanting to hear the answer. "What if someone does something real bad?"

Professor Peter had just looked at him. "If someone does something bad they are put in prison, Dudley. If a _child_ does something bad they should be corrected, yes. Their parents or guardian should tell them what they did was wrong and then take away privileges, perhaps give swats to the backside." He had looked at Dudley until Dudley couldn't hold his eyes anymore and looked down.

"So what hurt you?" He asked, hoping his professor would change the subject.

Peter had given him a look but had leaned back in his chair until he was comfortable and answered him.

"It was a wolf." Dudley had blinked in shock. "I was attacked by a wolf."

Dudley's mouth had dropped open. "In the woods? Why? Was he hungry? Did he take a bite out of you? Can I see?"

A smile had curved the professor's mouth up. "Yes in the woods. I don't believe he was hungry but he could have been. No he didn't take a bite _out_ of me but he did bite me hard enough to leave a scar. Yes you can see, if you want."

He had been so excited to hear such a thing he almost missed his professor's tone. But luckily he had caught it in time. His professor really didn't want to show him. And he was tired and more than likely wanted to go home. Suddenly looking at the clock had seemed like a good idea and Dudley had been shocked to find it past supper.

Professor Peter had too and suddenly he was ushering Dudley out of his office and into his car as Pier's mum was nowhere in sight. Professor Peter had needed directions and had hesitated strangely before turning onto Privet Drive. Dudley felt bad about that. Now Professor Peter was worried. He shouldn't have said anything he really shouldn't. After all didn't his parents know best? Professor Peter wasn't smarter than them was he?

When the car pulled in front of number 4 he smiled extra brightly at his professor, hoping to reassure him. It seemed to work only slightly and Dudley had felt himself being watched the entire time he walked up to the house. In fact the car only pulled away when he was inside and the door closed.

* * *

When Harry had spoken to him he had been shocked and slightly unnerved. Did he know that Dudley had let something slip. That he was friendly with Professor Peter? That part of Dudley wished someone would find out so he could know once and for all if the punishments were bad or not.

It had been Harry starting in on Professor Peter that had made Dudley mad. Professor Peter was the nicest person in the whole world. Harry really had no right speaking like that. Anger had made Dudley forget himself and tell about his friendship with the professor. That had been a mistake. Nearly immediately Harry had started a horrible commotion, and his mum had become hysterical. Dudley still couldn't figure out how he had done that. But what had made Dudley's stomach ache and had turned him back to his food was the private lecture out in the hall. Punishment. That was what would happen.

The magic the barmy old man had cast only just crossed his mind when he heard a small thud then a much larger one. Not two minutes later his dad came in looking dazed aided by his pale mum. Had it worked then? Were the punishments over? It seemed so. After such a fuss Harry should have gotten in so much trouble. And here were his parents not punishing him. It was a dream come true for Dudley. It was a real shame that it didn't last.

Months passed and with them the holidays and then Dudley's birthday. Pleasant months where Dudley got plenty of attention from his parents and Harry was either at school or in his cupboard. His parents ignored Harry completely beyond his mum snapping at Harry to 'Eat more Boy! People will think we starve you.' The only bad spot was his mum hovering over him after school hours ended. She started picking him up from school and nothing would convince her that he needed to stay after. If he wanted to visit Piers his friend had to come over to his house.

His mum and dad had forbidden him from having anything to do with 'that dodgey professor' and nothing, not even the tantrum he threw that lasted for a week, would change their mind. But Dudley was pleased to find his Professor had stopped taking lunch with the faculty and instead would eat in his office. It took a week of that routine before Dudley caught on and then he muttered complaints about having detention and slipped off. Harry never noticed as he had stopped going to lunch as well and spent the entire time in the library. Lunch became a quiet pleasant affair which Dudley enjoyed enormously. He and Professor Peter would chat about his school work and of course Harry. He never once brought up Dudley's slip and Dudley was careful not to do so again.

But all wasn't as pleasant as he thought. His mum had a doctor's appointment on the last day of school and couldn't get home in time to pick him up. She had given him permission to walk home with Piers. He had been overjoyed and got Piers detention, which wasn't very hard, and snuck away to say goodbye to Professor Peter.

For once the professor hadn't smiled when he saw him. In fact he had looked very disappointed and sad. And angry.

At first Dudley had thought it was because he hadn't eaten lunch with him, instead plotting to get Piers detention. He had hesitated at the doorway but entered after a moment and shut the door. Swallowing he had watched as Professor Peter had paced, arms stiffly held behind his back. Once or twice his fist would clench. His eyes were the oddest color, Dudley had noticed. Then he knew it wasn't him missing lunch.

"What happened?" Dudley had whispered. His professor had turned to look at him, and suddenly soften upon actually seeing him, though the disappointment in his eyes didn't lesson.

"Harry." Of course. It was always Harry.

Dudley scowled. "Was he rude again or something? If you want I can tell my dad. He'd punish him for you. Well if I don't mention you by name." The last he muttered and as he was looking down he could excuse himself for having missed the flare of rage that lit his Professor's eyes.

After a moment, though, he spoke and Dudley _had_ noticed the rage underneath his even tone. "And how do you think your dad would punish Harry, Dudley?"

Dudley had froze and looked up very slowly. Letting out a breath he shook his head and didn't answer.

"Tell me Dudley, how does Harry get punished. No dinner? Time out? To bed early?" Dudley had just shaken his head as tears welled up. He really hadn't been ready for that conversation.

" I don't know, Professor, why are you asking me? Why do you care so much about _Harry!_ He's just a stupid little freak and if he gets punished he deserves it!"

This time there was no disappointment in Professor Peter's eyes. Just disgust. And that soon faded to emptiness.

"Do you really believe that Dudley?" He had whispered.

The question had been too soon. Dudley hadn't decided yet. But his professor h

ad looked at him with disgust in his eyes and was looking at him with nothing in his eyes. No disappointment anymore and no hope. He hadn't been able to bear it. "No, Professor. I don't." And he hadn't.

His professor had closed his eyes. "I care about Harry for the same reason I care about you, Dudley." Dudley had felt a bit better at hearing that but waited to hear what else he would say. "You both are living in a home with guardians that are unsuitable."

But Dudley had been confused and finally his Professor had opened his eyes. "Dudley your parents are abusive." He had said it ever so gently and Dudley had shook his head in denial. "Yes, Dudley. Your parents abuse Harry, and they abuse you."

Dudley had opened his mouth to protest. His parents had never hurt him. They _hadn't_. He would have remembered.

Professor Peter had gripped his shoulders and shook him very slightly. "They hurt you by feeding you too much, encouraging you to do whatever you want, and clearly not teaching you right from wrong if only by example." Dudley had simply shook his head but Peter wasn't done. "They hurt Harry by punishing him unjustly and down right violently. Dudley, that must make an impression on you. Don't you think their hurting you just doing something like that under the same roof as you!"

He had stopped shaking Dudley but Dudley hadn't been able to stop shaking. "Harry deserves it," He had pleaded. "He's bad and mum and dad are just trying to teach him-"

"What? How to be submissive? How to flinch when someone raises their hand. Worse how not to flinch when someone hits him?" Tears had escaped and his professor had gently brushed them away with one hand. "How not to cry?"

"My parents," he had whispered.

"Are not good people, Dudley," he had whispered back. "They are abusive and they won't stop. They will never stop until someone stops them."

That was all the excuse he needed.

"But they have stopped!" Dudley had blurted out. "They haven't punished him in months!"

His professor had just looked at him sadly. "Yes Dudley. They have."

Dudley had remembered the barmy old wizard and breathed a bit easier. "They haven't." he had said it confidently. "They couldn't possibly."

Professor Peter had pulled back. "Dudley. I know you might not have seen it but they've been hiding it from you. I'm sure you don't know the extent of the abuse but trust me. I know what I'm talking about."

"You don't know." Dudley had stared at him determined to make him understand. Everything was ok now. Nothing was wrong. "Someone came to our house. I told you. He made sure they couldn't punish Harry again."

His Professor's eyes had hardened and he had looked equally determined. "But he didn't do anything to guarantee it, Dudley. Their still hurting him."

"NO!" He had yelled it. "No! The barmy old man made sure!" His professor had choked a bit but Dudley had paid him no attention. He was panicking. He knew it was impossible. Everything was fine.

"Dudley, calm down-"

"NO! He made sure!. He stopped them. They haven't. He stopped them. He used m-" Barely stopping in time Dudley had blinked away tears.

"What were you going to say, Dudley?" Professor Peter looked at him as if he'd never seen him before. "Magic, Dudley?" He had whispered.

Closing his eyes he had nodded. There was silence for a while. Then, "I believe you, Dudley." And he had breathed a sigh of relief for a moment before it all fell apart. "And now I need you to believe me." Dudley opened his eyes. "It hasn't stopped. Whatever spell he did, they found a way around it."

Dudley had gasped in disbelief. No. It just couldn't be. "How can you possibly know?" He had whispered.

"Blood. He was bleeding today, Dudley. From hidden wounds." That couldn't be right he had thought. He would have noticed on the way to school. Bloody hell, there hadn't been time. The night before they had gone out, leaving Harry to his cupboard. It was impossible.

"Your wrong." Said Dudley firmly. "You can't possibly know that."

His professor had looked at him and then, as if making a decision, nodded. "Do you remember when I told you I was bit by a wolf, Dudley?" Dudley had warily nodded. "When he bit me he turned me. Do you know what that means?"

Dudley had laughed a little sickly. "You mean made your a werewolf." He had snorted softly. "I'm not that stupid, professor. Werewolves aren't real."

But his professor hadn't laughed and said he though he might be dumb enough to believe it though. "I'm sick once a month. On the full moon I change into a werewolf and I loose my mind. Then there is only the wolf and whatever blood he wants to shed. I have to chain myself up to prevent him from tearing down Privet Drive and killing your parents because he is so _angry_ at them for hurting you and Harry." Dudley had gaped at him. What? "Harry has been – punished - many times in the last few months and, while I admit they weren't like they've been in the past, they were there, Dudley. I could smell his pain."

Dudley had simply stared at Professor Peter. Harry had been right. There was something a little off about him.

Peter had given him a knowing look as if he knew what he was thinking. "And Dudley, today I could smell blood." He had looked at him daring Dudley to deny it. "You know I'm right, Dudley."

Dudley had shook his head and gaped. Then suddenly jumped up. "No. No your wrong. And Harry was right about you! Your not very nice after all."

"Dudley-"

But he shook his head. "No! You know I think you might have only been nice to me cause I'd tell you stuff about Harry." He could feel the tears drop and ignored them. "Well not anymore!"

* * *

And he had left. Ran out and found Piers and then challenged him to a race home. And Professor Peter hadn't come after him. He could have caught up to him at any time as Dudley was fat and didn't run very fast. Werewolf indeed he had thought. Some werewolf.

When he got home neither of his parent's cars were there. He let himself into the house and found a note telling him his mum would be home any minute. Still aggravated by his talk with Peter he had turned to the kitchen and found himself a huge snack and sat down to eat it.

It wasn't true. They hadn't done a thing to Harry. They hadn't had the time. Dudley and Harry were gone to school and then when home Dudley could account for every minute they spent awake as Harry would be in his cupboard and Dudley would be with his parents. It was impossible. Unless they did it at night but that was unlikely as his mum always got up real early to wake his dad for work. And even if they found the time they wouldn't for fear of feeling the same punishment themselves. His parents were far to much of pansies for them to want to endure that.

Breathing deeply he decided Harry had been right. Professor Peter was a prat. He really ought to go apologize to his cousin. Or at least warn Harry that the professor knew a whole lot more than he should.

Deciding to do just that he got up quickly, leaving his snack on the table, and hurried to the cupboard where he knew his cousin would be. Opening it quickly he was about to speak when the sight before him nearly made him sick up instead.

There was his cousin, a knife in his hand, pulling it down his arm parallel to several other cuts that all bit just as deeply. They were in strict uniform down both arms that were always well covered by sleeves. Blood had dripped onto the cupboard floor and Harry had frozen, the knife still buried into his skin.

"Harry." He had gasped, feeling faint and not because of the blood either. Professor Peter had told him but he hadn't wanted to listen. He had just stared at his cousin for the longest time.

Finally Harry spoke. "Punishment." He had whispered quietly, almost like he was ashamed. "Aunt ordered."

And Dudley had finally seen it. His parents were . . . bad. They abused Harry and it wasn't right. It was horrible and Dudley was very afraid. And sickened. And in awe that Harry wasn't.

"Don't tell you saw, Dudley, Please" His cousin was begging him not to tell. Why wasn't he begging for help? Why wasn't he telling Dudley to call the police? The knife had lain unheeded in his hands and blood had made a puddle on the floor.

"You bleeding, Harry." Was all he had been able to get out.

"Yeah." Harry had whispered. "Its okay, Dudley. I deserved the Punishment."

Dudley had swallowed hard. "What'd you do?" He had whispered back.

"I haven't done my chores for today." He had said looking guilty.

Dudley had shook his head. "Lucy does the chores now. Your not allowed."

"Yeah." Was all he said back. Dudley just stared until Harry motioned him to scoot back and then quietly closed the cupboard door.

Back in the kitchen, for the first time ever, Dudley hadn't been able to eat. He couldn't tell anyone he had realized. Harry was so- so brainwashed he would claim he had done it to himself voluntarily. He couldn't even tell Professor Peter as school was out and he didn't' know where he lived. Even if he did he wasn't even sure if Professor Peter would listen to him. After the things he said his professor must hate him.

When his parents came home he was in his room with the tellie blaring. When his mum called him down for dinner he was almost sick. In the kitchen Harry was right there at the table just as he'd been for the past few months. His mum was smiling and his dad was tired. It looked just like every night had since Thanksgiving. He hadn't been able to stop his stomach from rolling.

His mum had fussed over him, putting more and more on his plate, and asking what was wrong. Putting her hand to his head she had checked for fever and cooed and fussed despite his grunts of protest that didn't even resemble speech. It was the middle of dinner when he snapped. His dad told Harry to pass a dish that was much to heavy, even for Dudley, and Harry dropped it. His dad had roared at him to get in the cupboard and Harry had left shooting a concerned glance at Dudley as he did.

"Why don't you just punish him here, dad?" He had asked, deceptively casual, and somewhat scared that he was actually going to do it. To speak about everything to his parents. "After all you have a knife right there."

Hid dad had froze, the bite halfway up, his mouth gaping like a caught fish. Dudley had stared challengingly at him. "Its not like I don't know after all."

An very strange look had passed over his dad's face and shiver of pure fear had passed down Dudley's spine. His dad had looked mad. Murderous and quite mad and Dudley had been more afraid then he ever had been in his life. This was it. He had told himself. His nightmares were about to come true. But the blow he expected never came. His dad had moved quicker than he ever thought he could and disappeared into the hall. The sound of the cupboard door slamming open could be heard and then a stifled gasp of pain from Harry.

His mum just sat there staring at Dudley like she had never seen him before. She hadn't even made a move to follow his dad and she hadn't made a move to him. He had expected all kinds of denial and fussing from her but never got it. She just stared at him in horror.

Suddenly Harry screamed and the scream was cut off deteriorating into an awful gurgling sound. Dudley had jumped up and dashed to the hallway. His mum had been right behind him and had followed. The sight that met them would haunt Dudley's sleep for years to come.

Harry had crouched on his knees in front of his dad his hand to his throat as blood poured unceasingly threw his fingers. His had had stood over him a knife, the same one Harry had been using earlier, held loosely in his hand. But the satisfied expression on his face had been what scared Dudley the most. He had looked justified.

"Vernon!" His mum had finally shrieked in panic after staring at the scene for what seemed like hours. "What have you done! You've killed him."

And Dudley had felt the world disappear at those words. Killed. His dad had killed Harry. The last thing he remembered thinking was what would Professor Peter do to his dad when he found out?

* * *

That had been yesterday. Harry wasn't dead as he had found out upon waking up. Dudley wasn't sure how it had happened. His mum hadn't been very clear and he hadn't been too eager to listen to her. He hadn't been able to go downstairs yet. His dad was down there, he hadn't been able to go to work that morning, and Dudley didn't want to face him. In fact he didn't want to do much of anything. He just wanted to sleep.

Flipping on the tellie Dudley crept under the covers. He wanted to hide from the world. Harry wasn't dead but there was no telling when he'd wake up. If he'd wake up. If he'd live. Dudley almost didn't care anymore. He just wanted to forget. Closing his eyes he tried.

* * *

**Ok so I gave you all a little peace here but not that much. Harry is alive. For now. You'll see how I save him real soon. Or not so soon. Writer's block again. I have to kill a whole bunch of people and, even as bloodthirsty as I am, I can't figure out how to do it. **

**Ahh well. Sit tight. I'll be back. Eventually.**

**Fitful**


	11. Chapter 11

**So someone stayed up til 2am reading my story. (Fitful does a little happy dance.) Sorry. I'm just so pleased to find that someone stays up all night reading fanfiction like I do. I makes me feel less weird. **

**OC Warning. I know. Sorry, sorry, sorry. But if you bear with me they all die. So you don't have to suffer them long.**

**Just Imagine they're all in France, speaking poor and not so poor English with a French accent. **

_**Fleur de Sang**_** means **_**Bloody Flower**_

_**Mer de Soleil**_** means **_**Bloody Sea**_

**The other French words I really couldn't care less about. The novelty of setting the scene in France wore off rather quickly.**

* * *

July 30th.

Morning.

"Ghis!"

Ghislaine Dumas turned at the sound of her brother's voice. He stood at the top of the stairs, smiling excitedly, his eyes brilliant and glowing. She couldn't help the smile curving her mouth. Anselm Dumas was a beautiful child even at eleven. His auburn hair, blue eyes, and fair skin no doubt made him all the rage at the boarding school he attended; but now he was home. School was out for the summer, he had visited his friend Thomas for half of it. Now it was her turn. She would get him for another month before he had to go back. She just hoped they made it through that month.

"Anni," Ghislaine called back, "What, you didn't bring yourself a girl back?"

Anselm jumped over the side of the balcony, bypassing the stairs altogether, and landed neatly on his feet. It was quite a good thing he was a borne vampire or else he would have broken many bones doing such a thing.

"Girls are boring, Ghis, all they do is talk about stupid things." Ghislaine raised her eyebrow as he dove at her and buried his face against her stomach.

"I'll have you know that I'm a girl, Anni." His giggle tickled her belly and she pulled away and frowned at him. "I truly hope you don't believe I'm boring."

He tried to look serious but the light in his eyes betrayed him. "Well . . ."

"Pardonne-moi? You, mon petite frre, are going to get yourself in trouble."

He grinned much to pleased to see her to be concerned by her empty threats. She couldn't help but grin back. "Alright. Aller et laver. I'll see you for dinner, d'accord?"

He frowned in disappointment but agreed. "D'accord." Then his eyes lit up. "Is, Egil here?"

"Oui. Training, as usual." Ghislaine sighed. "You may visit but do not get in the way."

"Really? Thanks, Ghis! See you later!" With that he was off and running, causing a few vampires to hastily to move out of the way.

" So, our Anselm's back, Oui?" Rush Gautier chuckled as he took in the many vampires scowling after the eleven year old.

"Yes, he is most definitely back." Ghis couldn't help her smile. "Shame I'll be at Crescent tonight. I was hoping to spend time with him before. . . well just before."

"I could take your place, Lady, if you would like to take the time."

She shook her head. "I need to petition Lord Kiinn for reinforcements. It should be me who does so."

Rush nodded in agreement. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a watch. "We're late, Odil already spoke me and complained." Ghislaine nodded and motioned for him to walk ahead. Rush raised an eyebrow but followed her suggestion and started walking. Ghis followed, walking slowly, keeping her eyes open and moving.

"Anything from Purvis?" Ghislaine took a breath to make sure worry didn't color her voice.

"I am sorry, my lady. She has not mind spoke either Ciel or myself." He sounded calm and looked back at her once. "Do you have to do that, Ghislaine?"

Ghislaine sighed but conceded to walk beside him."I once met a wizard with one eye. I asked him how he had managed to hang on to it so long. 'Constant Vigilance!' he shouted and mumbled in Latin before shooting something out of a stick at me. I, of course, heeded his helpful advice and dove out of the way. It was a good thing I had as one of my enemies who stood behind me was cut in half."

Rush chuckled. "What happened after that?"

Ghislaine smiled. "I said thank you." Rush rolled his eyes. "As it was he didn't understand French and was convinced I had been cursing at him."

Rush let out a bark of laughter. "Only you, Ghis."

He stopped at the door of the current council chamber. "After you, Lady Dumas." He gave an smart bow. Ghislaine gave him a look but went first.

* * *

"Ahh, Ghis! Feenally!" A girl who barley looked older than Anselm she was so short greeted them. "Ou are terreebly late!"

Ghislaine raised an eyebrow at her. "I am never late, Fawne, everyone else is merely early." Fawne looked at her and rolled her eyes. Ghis found that a common reaction to her but she really didn't care. She was the Lady of Fleur de Sang after all. Her rather bloody, pardon the pun, reputation meant she was taken seriously when it counted.

The council room wasn't really a proper one. It was one of the larger rooms in the manor and had been cleared of all furniture except nine chairs. They stood in a circle with only one draped in velvet as a nod to ceremony. They currently were all filled except for hers and Rush's. The room was filled with quiet conversation that while it could have been merely any other day the underlining feeling of tension made everyone highly aware that everything was not right.

After Ghislaine took her seat Rush let off a small tone of magic before seating himself. Everyone grew quiet.

"Bedelia, report." Ghis looked to the pale, blond vampire that sat to her immediate right.

"Lord Endore hasn't respond to any communications since last month. We've been forced to assume he's compromised." She glanced to her left at Ciel. "Enchantress warded the border between Mer de Soleil and Fleur de Sang. I'm uncertain if it will hold as Ciel is rather stretched at the moment with Fleur de Sang and her surrounding territory."

Ghis frowned. "Any chance of someone being available of going-?"

"Negative, my lady. We're lacking enough people as it is. Between the attacks and the borders and every day patrol around the manor there just aren't enough."

"Is the bridge set to take me to Crescent?" Ghis looked to Ciel. The Enchantress turned her head towards her, blue eyes drifting absently as Ciel was blind.

"I've set up the shadow bridge in the atrium, my lady." Ciel said softly. "I hope six in the evening is good for you? I am wary about leaving the wards open, even to the shadows, for more than a few minutes."

"C'est bien. Anything else to report?"

Bedelia looked hesitant but after a moment shrugged. "It may not be that important but Rassia's been turned."

Ghislaine blinked and looked across the room. Rassia was grinning. She smiled softly. "Felicitations, Rassia."

There were similar good wishes from around the room.

"So you are a Vampire now, oui?" Fawne squealed; her English a bit mutilated by her rather strong accent.

Rassia laughed. "Well I've insomnia, sensitivity to any strong smells, and I've been biting people. It think I've pretty much been confirmed as a vampire."

"That or you have rabies," muttered Odil.

Fawne groaned but Ghislaine had to stifle her laughter.

"So who's your Sire, Ras?" Odil was glancing slyly at Bedelia who was ignoring him.

Rassia shook her head and smirked at him. "No one here, Odil"

"Odil," Ghislaine spoke up to get his attention. "How is our mortal populace?"

Odil straightened. "We have enough to keep everyone fed, Lady, but they are . . . concerned over the troubles we are having. Many are requesting to be turned" He cast a quick glance at the newly turned Rassia.

"Why are you leeches so shy about naming it?" A dark werewolf suddenly spoke up. "Call it what is is. War"

Ghis looked Dejah sadly. "Oui, Finné." She straightened and looked once around the circle. Gravely she proclaimed, "We are at war."

There was a moment's silence before, predictably, Bedelia broke it.

"But how did we get here so fast?" Ghislaine's third in command sniffed in disgust. "We aren't even sure who is behind the attacks."

"They aren't just attacks anymore, Bedelia." Destry leaned forward looking grim. "They are executions. Massacres.

"Is zere anyvay of finding out?" Fawne was frowning. "Ve've been 'ere trying to fend off zee attacks but zee only vay to stop zem is to get to zee one be'ind eet all."

Ceil cleared her throat hesitantly.

Ghis smiled knowing the Enchantress could hear it in her voice. "Yes, Ciel?"

"I have heard . . . whispers." Ciel sounded far away. "Javier de Rais."

"When did you hear this?" Rush let out a low hiss. "Stupide fille! How come you haven't said anything!"

Ciel cringed at the rebuke and turned her head away. Ghis cast a warning glance at Rush. Ciel was really the only true submissive in the group and she didn't have a mate nor a life-bonded yet. It was easy to for her to underestimate her place on Fleur de Sang's council and hard for her to speak up.

"Who's Javier de Rais?" Rassia asked curiously.

"An evil bastard, that's who. Sadistic as they come, with a taste for killing. What's worse, he doesn't follow the Ancient Ways." Odil looked defeated already.

"He also craves power." Ghis looked at Rush in concern. He sounded quite grim which was at odds with his normal overly composed countenance. "He'd do anything to get it."

"Some say he even uses daemons." Destry grunted in disgust. "That would explain the massacres that have been happening."

Ghislaine's blood ran cold. Not daemons. Anything but those. They were impossible to kill. Evil incarnate. They literally came from hell. Daemons were nothing but bits of shadow and teeth and pain.

"Isn't - aren't those what killed your par-" Rassia started to ask her but Rush stopped her with a look. Ghis was grateful for him doing that. A council session was not a good place to be reminded.

"Destry, how are our weapons stash? Our warrior count?"

The dark werewolf, twin to Dejah who sat beside her, shook her head. "Bad. We don't have much in the way of weapons, never thought we'd be here long enough to need them. And you know the state of our warriors already. There just aren't enough of anyone, let alone trained warriors. Even of the ones we have most are green."

Ghislaine frowned. She could petition Kiinn to let them abandon Fleur de Sang. The manor wasn't a permanent base anyway. She was merely sent here to establish a rapport with Lord Endore. That had been going well, with his great grandson Egil finding a home here and Lord Soleil and herself getting along marvelously. Now he was compromised and they were hemmed in on all borders by unforgiving enemies.

But if there were daemons they would have to be routed out. She couldn't leave a Necromancer to run amok. Even if France wasn't part of the Bloodlands in entirety it soon would be. It would only be harder later on if she just left daemons to ruin it.

Beside daemons haunted her dreams. It was them that kept her awake at night and caused her to get up early to avoid them. She was the only vampire she knew that hated shadow walking. She couldn't do it properly as the shadows there reminded her far to much of the one that could manifest themselves into evil creatures from hell. Another vampire had to do it for her and she still refused to do so unless she had to.

* * *

Suddenly Rush stiffened, and turned slightly away from the group. That was a universal sign that he was mind-speaking someone. She held her breathe, hoping it was Purvis. The vampire who was her life-bonded had been missing for the past month after a mission in Paris following a lead one of the rats had sold her. Since she hadn't returned on time Ghislaine had known something was wrong.

Purvis was a gentle vampire. Submissive and sweet. More intelligent than anyone would give her credit for to look at her with her pale hair and doll like face. She had originally been part veela when she had been mortal but even now those roots held true and she was able to use veela magic to some extent. All of those traits made her the perfect spy. Not to mention she could kick ass better than any sub Ghislaine had ever seen.

The Lady of Fleur de Sang relied on her right hand to mind speak as it was one vampire gift she hadn't received. It was common for turned vampires to miss out on some gifts but rare for a borne one. As her parents had been vampires, and their parents vampires, and their parents before them, she had had to work hard to make up for lacking certain traits. One thing she lacked was height. She wasn't as short as Fawne but she was just barley 5'2 and that lack had been hard for a Dominant, borne vampire whose goal was to gain the title of Lady one day.

She had been born in France but her parents had moved to England not a month after to join Lord Kiinn at Crescent. She had nearly lived in London's streets during her youth. She spent quite a bit of it learning how to be a warrior. She didn't take lip from anyone and would pick a fight with all odds stacked against her. Eventually she had started winning those fights and gained a reputation as being a rather crazy blood-thirsty vampire.

All that hard work paid off when Lord Kiinn recognized her potential and ordered her to mentor to a Lord. That lord had been in France which wasn't so bad as she had roots there and such but the language was a bitch to learn and she was rubbish at French. The first month made her furious that her parents spoke nothing but Nin and English since moving to Crescent.

She had been shipped off to Avignon at barely 21. For a borne vampire that was quite young. But Lord Gautier had turned out to be the best thing for her. He became her second sire, her confidant, and her friend. She had half thought she was in love with him. That is until she met Rush and Purvis. Rush and Purvis Gautier were both the children of Sennett Gautier. Unfortunate he had twelve. He had never found his life-bonded but did take mates. He had a fondness for mortals and many of his children were of rather odd lineage.

Rush was a borne vampire with all the traits and most definite French. His mother had been a countess or something like it and his rather aristocratic looks showed. He was gorgeous, with rich red hair and ice blue eyes and Ghislaine had fallen instantly in love with him. Until she met his sister. Purvis had a mortal mother, who had been a witch of some sort. She had been born mortal and was still quite mortal when Ghis met her. She was gorgeous too and as a young vampire Ghis had been very confused but tried to stay away from her new Master's mortal daughter.

The years passed and Rush had seduced her once when he was drunk. That had turned out rather badly as Rush was Dominant and so was Ghis. After much shouting they had given up on making that one work and simply settled for a very close friendship. She had actually gotten involved with Lord Sennett for a few years. Him being her second sire, and mentor, he was automatically in the role of Dominant. Those few years had taught her much, and not just how to be a good Lady but how to be a good Dominant. How to lead and better how to do it well. She had also learned the value of submission and the Ancient Ways had taken on more meaning.

She and Purvis hadn't talked much. Purvis had similar lessons and when she wasn't busy with her father she was training with tutors. For years things had been very awkward between them. It wasn't until much later that Ghis had discovered why.

Ghislaine had always prided herself on being observant. She had become the best warrior she could be just by that habit alone. But she had never picked up on Purvis being her life-bonded until Purvis had been turned. She might have forgiven herself for it. After all she never bit the girl or even smelled her blood. In fact she had actively avoided her for nearly seven years. But Purvis, mortal and all that, had known. She had been in love with oblivious Ghislaine Dumas for seven years and never said a word. Not when Ghis was falling down drooling over Rush and not when Ghis was obviously having relations with her father.

As a lifebonded Dominant Ghislaine still grimaced when she thought about how hurt her Submissive must have been, never mind that Purvis had been happily human during that time.

Currently Ghislaine was torn between being the Lady of Fleur de Sang and the lifebonded mate of Purvis Gautier Dumas. In the middle of what was now obviously a war she couldn't get away. The one time she had left, eager to kill anyone who kept her from her Submissive she had returned to find twenty of her vampires in pieces all over her bedroom. She had been sleeping in Rush's quarters since that day.

Now Rush was stiff and actually smelled agitated with shock and pain growing in his scent. Ghislaine grew more and more alarmed. Suddenly she hoped he was not mind speaking his sister.

"Vat e's eet?" Whispered Fawne but no one answered her.

Then the room grew cold. The sun that came in through the floor to ceiling windows was suddenly gone and the world outside abruptly faded to deep gray. Ghislaine purposefully ignored Rush and rose, walking slowing to the window. Bedelia and Destry rose quickly and followed her.

The lands surrounding Fleur de Sang were rolling with shadows. What seemed like clouds of black billowed thickly around everything. The manor wasn't merely cut off from the world. It was being invaded.

"We are under attack." Rush's voice was overly controlled. He sounded blank "The guards on patrol are gone. Sentries gone. Egil has Anselm but I just lost contact."

Ghislaine felt herself grow cold. Anselm. "Ciel." The blind vampire cocked her head. " Shadow walk. Find Anselm. I know it is dangerous but I need you to keep him safe."

"Oui, Lady." Ciel bowed at the waist, one hand held just under her breasts and the other behind her. A final salute. Ghislaine hoped it wasn't her presciencebeing invoked in that bow.

"If you can, take him to Crescent." She nodded a dismissal at the Enchantress.

"Destry find the remaining warriors, Dejah take the new potion and change. I want you meeting anyone who comes through the front doors. " Both werewolves grinned eager for the fight.

"Rassia and Odil find our mortal companions and turn them." Odil nodded but Rassia bit her lip nervously before nodding as well."

"Fawne mind speak anyone who can hear and call for help. Then find Egil and fight with him." Fawne smartly saluted like an American soldier.

"Bedelia and Rush with me." Ghislaine didn't wait to see if they followed. Flexing her Will she called up her sword and reaching down she released one of her knives.

She felt the pull of the shadows as many chose to brave shadow walking in order to get to their posts quicker. She was more than please when Ciel left.

* * *

Rush and Bedelia also took the time to arm themselves. Rush was fond of a bow and arrow; arrows made of magic light were easy to make and often deadly. Bedelia favored a broad sword nearly too heavy for Ghislaine to use. It had been handed down in theMori ve family for generations. They were ready to fight when the shadows exploded.

The shadow to her left solidified into a large bear-like thing, if a bear were the size of a boat and had spikes that glistened with poison and limbs that drifted like smoke. Ghislaine was moving before he had fully formed, sprinting away from it to dance around at a safe distance. Fawne sprinted towards the thing, under, then around and was through the hall like a slingshot without looking back. Rush had already scored a hit when Ghis moved in and Bedelia moved in concert with her to block a paw the size of a tire. Ghislaine slipped in her vacated spot as Bedelia moved out of the way, her sword driving itself, ironically, into the demon's heart.

The thing screamed, a hissing thing that nearly defended the vampire's with their sensitive hearing. The daemon dissolved into mist and then shadows. Abruptly they were surrounded by nothing. The shadows fled.

Breathing out a quick breath Ghislaine smelled for blood but found nothing.

"Damned daemons never bleed," Rush commented. "Got Geneva that way. She never even smelled them."

Geneva. One of his sisters. That brought her mind back to Purvis . Roughly she pushed the thought away.

"It's not dead, Lady." Bedelia looked around sharply. "Daemon's don't die. We should go."

The light that normally came in through the floor to ceiling windows was muted by the dark cloud that hovered outside. The hallway was lit only by the mage lights dangling from above and the walls to either side were cast into shadows. Bedelia stared into the shadows, searching for unnatural movement.

Ghislaine blew out a breath. Daemons might not die but they could be sent back to hell if they used up the magic that held them here. De Rais must have been storing magic for months in anticipation of this day. So many daemons were here and already they had been attacked. They must have orders to find the Lady of Fleur de Sang.

Ghislaine made up her mind. "They'll be looking for me," She headed for the stairs, eyes moving constantly, even as Rush and Bedelia scrambled to keep up. "The Entrance Hall or the Great Hall is where de Rais will be."

"Ghis, we should be getting you out of here, not heading towards the Sadist wielding daemons." Rush put out a hand to touch her shoulder as she paused on the first step. The first floor was cast into darkness that even vampire sight could barely cut through. To head down, might force them to fight blind. The thought of Anselm had her shaking off Rush's hand and starting down the stairs regardless.

"No. I want to find de Rais. The sooner I do the sooner the daemons get gone."

Rush growled again in frustration but followed her down the stairs with Bedelia right behind them. It smelled cold. Shadows billowed in the corners, along the walls, climbing the walls. They boiled at the ceiling; they hissed, and snapped, and snarled. They curled around the stair's rails and laughed at the vampires that passed them.

But the didn't attack. Minions then. Spies. Good.

She suddenly felt a pull in the shadows, a large one. Someone had activated a Shadow Gate. Ghislaine broke into a run. Bedelia and Rush were close behind. It was at the bottom of the stairs when they were attacked again. The shadows broke into dog like shapes that slithered and sped around them darting forward to snap at their heels with sharp teeth and yellow eyes. They ran on spiked paws and Bedelia hissed when she was too slow to avoid one.

Ghislaine's sword bit into shadow after shadow. It did little damage but did cause them to loose their shape and those precious minutes where the daemons had to form them again was what saved them from getting killed. Abruptly they were surrounded by nothing but shadows again; then even those fled. Rush was breathing hard at the end of it and Ghislaine had escaped any wounds by Lilith's Luck alone. Bedelia's leg bled and didn't heal. The daemon's poison must be potent.

"Seems odd that they keep disappearing like that." Bedelia grunted as she inspected her wound. " They aren't dying so where do they go?"

Ghis felt her upper lip curl in disgust. "De Rais is toying with us."

Rush growled lowly beneath his breath. "He would find it amusing to do so."

Bedelia hissed in agreement as she bound her leg with a twist of her Will. "It'll hold, Lady." She grunted as she took a step. "We should go."

Ghislaine shook her head and bit her wrist, offering it to the blond vampire who hesitated before taking it and politely drinking. She didn't take much though and quickly gave it a final lick before nodding her thanks.

"Try not to stop and feed any hurt vampire you see, Lady." Bedelia sniffed at Ghis and started down the hall. "I doubt even you have enough blood to do that."Ghis rolled her eyes but followed her with Rush falling in behind her.

Howls announced the presence of werewolves. Rush shook his head once to let her know that it was Dejah and Destry and not de Rais' allies. The dark-skinned twins ran on four feet as wolves, snapping at the heels of half a dozen warriors who nodded respectfully in her direction. They passed her and Ghislaine nodded back watching as they headed towards the Entrance Hall.

"Where are the rest?" Ghis asked Rush who looked to be in mind speech with one of them.

Rush looked at her with tired eyes. "Dead."

Ghislaine took a moment to breath before she pushed the grief away. She turned to find Bedelia leaning against the spiral that began the climb with the stairs.

"Alright Bedelia?" The blond vampire was pale but nodded.

* * *

The made their way to the Great Hall. Ghislaine assume de Rais would overtake it first as it held the throne each keep kept for the lord of Crescent. Necromancer's loved theatrics and symbolic demoralizing gestures were their favorite weapon next to daemons and death. Ghislaine's goal was to get to de Rais and kill him. It was the only way to end this.

Some flying owl type of daemon attacked them next. It distracted Ghislaine just enough for the de Rais's vampires to attack without warning. Vampire's sprang from the shadows and were on them before they could react. Their blades were covered in blood and their teeth dripped it as they hissed at the defending trio. Ghislaine showed her fangs in return and used her Will to split her sword into two. With one half in either hand she attacked snarling in rage. The vampires laughed at her before two met her swords with their necks and died. Then they took her seriously.

She caught Rush out of the corner of her eye, attacking with calm calculation beside her, but Bedelia was soon ahead of her, eager to spill blood and cursing at the invaders with startling passion. Ghis shook her head in amusement even as she brought her sword up through a daemon that promptly dissipated into shadows when the blade met flesh. A vampire moved in to take its place, his left fang broken in half and the hem of his battle robes drenched in blood.

Ghis sneered in disgust. Battle robes. How cliche.

Suddenly he attacked without warning but she was prepared. Their swords met but he was stronger and she had to duck beneath his arm and dance away. She quickly attacked again, one sword heading for his head, the other hidden by her body and aimed for his gut. He avoided the first sword but the second caught him by surprise and bit into his stomach. Before he could recover she brought the other sword and cut off his head.

It wasn't easy to kill a vampire but it wasn't as hard as they made it in the stories. Despite the hype vampire were not the undead, weren't put off my crosses and garlic, and wouldn't necessary die if someone ran a stake through their heart.

It actually all depended on when they last ate.

If a vampire had recently fed their healing ability was at its peak. Depending on the blood, freshness, quality, etc. They processed the blood differently. It also made quite the difference if the blood was willingly given or taken by force. Either held great potency but the taste and over all effect was quite different.

Of those of the Crescent clan, who followed the Ancient Ways few took their meals by force and those who were warriors. Most did not and preferred to drink willing blood, thus the rather large population of humans and other sentient creatures that were regarded as companions in the Crescent clan. Some went so far as to refuse to drink animal blood as the animals couldn't give their permission. Others were fine with supplementing their diet with a deer or two every now and then.

It was common for warriors to fed well before a battle and then gorge themselves on the blood of their victims as the battle progressed. Not all preferred it, some hated it, but if you were wounded the easiest way to heal would be fresh blood. The sword to the gut might have killed the vampire but it was better to be safe than sorry. Ghislaine had taken his head and that was one sure way to make sure the vampire that had been killed was quite dead.

Ghis, Rush, and Bedelia attacked the vampires and the shadows that sometimes formed daemons but they lost ground fast. There were too many and more than once Bedelia faltered and suffered another wound. Rush was soon fighting one handed.

Finally Ghislaine motioned for them to retreat. "Fall back. Rush can you reach Destry?"

"She says their on their way. They weren't even able to reach the Entrance Hall as it's got daemons spilling out of it like mad hornets."

A shadow swept in then and took shape and their attention was caught.

Ghis only realized time had passed when a dark gray werewolf suddenly ripped into the daemon's neck causing it to scream and burst into shadows that fled. The addition of the werewolves and the warriors was welcome. Ghis took a moment to catch her breath and grabbed Bedelia's arm forcing her to do the same. The enemy vampires attacked the werewolves with vigor, as the daemons focused on the Ghislaine, Rush, Bedelia and the new reinforcements. It wasn't long before they were again losing.

Two vampires surrounded one of the wolves while the others were having trouble defending themselves from the other. One tackled the wolf with his entire body, fangs biting into her neck and holding on tight. A mage bolt from Rush caused the vampire to jump back with a snarl even as the werewolf retaliated with a lunge to his throat. The vampire didn't even see it coming before he died. But the other vampire was enraged at his comrade's death. He let a burst of magic loose that stunned the werewolf just enough. A kick to her head stunned her further.

Ghislaine noticed the werewolf was losing but she was much to occupied with a spider like daemon that was three times her size. She struggled to score on the spider but the thing merely reformed any leg that she removed. Suddenly the werewolf yelped and a vampire brought his sword down, biting into the wolf's heart.

"Destry." Rush breathed. Ghis spared a glance for the wolf who lay broken on the floor. The vampire who slayed her pulled his sword free and grinned, a maniacal light in his eyes.

A howl split the air. The rage of the other werewolf was hot in her nostrils and Ghis motioned the others back. A grieving werewolf was one to stay away from. The daemons seemed to sense that as well for they disappeared at the howl and left the three remaining vampires to the werewolf who cried out with rage and grief and attacked with abandon.

Bedelia motioned to the remaining warriors to help the werewolf out with a few bolts of magic. Bits of green shot themselves through the air. Most missed but some hit their mark. Soon they were dead and nothing could be heard but panting of vampires trying to catch their breath.

Dejah, her snout dripping with blood, made her way to her twin's fallen body. A mournful howl sounded and Ghis didn't have the heart to stop her. It wasn't as if their location was a secret anyway.

Ghislaine dared to approach her. Dejah snarled, lips stretched around her mouth to show teeth, but backed down at the short cuff to her ear. "Enough, Dejah." She whispered in the wolf's ear. " I need you. You may mourn later."

Dejah growled but shook herself. She turned to the remaining three warriors and yipped once. They immediately fell in line before her, ever alert for another attack.

"Dejah, the companions. See to them now." Dejah huffed and turned away back leading the warriors, one last glance at her sister before she was gone around the corner.

* * *

Bedelia took a deep breath. "We must kill the Necromancer."

Rush hesitated as he looked around at the bloodied hall but nodded. Ghis shook her head and motioned for them to walk ahead of her. Bedelia complied but Rush pursed his lips in disapproval. They made their way on wards.

Suddenly he stopped and listened to something she couldn't hear. "Wait." Again his scent grew heavy. Ghis stared into the shadowed corners daring daemons to attack.

"Odil and Rassia are dead." Bedelia sucked in a breath and Ghis could smell her horror and abrupt pain and rage. "Most of the companions are as well." Rush looked at her gravely. "We must get you out of here, Ghis. We're being slaughtered!"

Ghis bared her teeth. "I am aware. And their deaths will mean nothing should I run. And where would I?"

"The shadow bridge . . ."

"I will not leave Anselm and I will not leave you." Ghis ran a hand threw her hair. It was full of blood and muck. She realized she was bleeding beneath it. "I will not abandon Fleur de Sang."

Rush scowled and stalked forward stopping when he was directly in front of her. He straightened his six foot three frame and bared his teeth. Ghis drew up her chin and stared him down, stormy blue eyes meeting cerulean blue.

It was hard to challenge Rush. He was older than her, had been her friend for so long. She had always subconsciously placed him as more dominant than her but now it was obvious he was not. His composure was frayed. His control slipping. Perhaps if he had been in top form, with rest and a feeding in him he would have won that challenge but as it was he eventually dropped his eyes submissively.

"As you will, Lady Dumas." He stood stiffly.

Ghislaine nodded sharply and this time led the way.

* * *

Sounds of screams greeted them when they entered the Great Hall.

Shadows attacked vampires everywhere and blood stained the Italian marble that had been imported from Greece some decades back. In the throne reserved for the Lord of Crescent a single vampire sat. He wore robes that were as red as the blood staining the floor and his hair was tainted green. Magic swirled around him and daemons crouched at his feet like bizarre pets. They resembled the daemons that had attacked them on the way there but they were ten times bigger and they stank with darkness and poison and pain and death.

Ghislaine threw up a shield, pushing all her Will into it, and felt Rush's Will join hers. They had been working together for so many years it was like slipping on an old hat. His irritation could be felt though the shield though and Ghis was forced to ignore it. Bedelia had immediately jumped into the fray and was attacking anything that moved in her direction.

The sight was a ghastly one. Daemons feasted on humans. Many resembled humans, with spikes, and scales, and red eyes the only visible difference. They were laughing madly and enjoying the screams as they pulled apart the mortals before them. Vampires fought against them but were being slaughtered easily. The daemons wouldn't die, and the ones that looked human were so powerful few were sent back to the hell they came from. A human, one of the companions, screamed as a daemon that more resembled a badger then human tore into his stomach.

Ghislaine was forced to walk by without stopping.. There was nothing she could do. The fallen bodies of vampire and human were trampled as she and Rush made their way towards de Rais. The Necromancer simply laughed at their approach and motioned for more of his shadows to solidify and attack them.

Bear-like daemons attacked, hissing, and spitting poison. Rush let off bolts of magic that seemed to startle them but they continued. Ghislaine threw a knife which hit her target. The daemon lost its shape and was forced to stop and reform. Ghis threw a second, and then a third. They were making headway. It would only be a matter of time.

Rush sucked in a breath; even through the screams Ghis heard it. "Egil is dead, as well as his trainees. Ciel has Anselm but the shadow bridge is broken and there is no way out. The Necromancer has sealed the shadows away from us."

"Tell her to hide him. Keep him safe. Once de Rais is dead she's to go."Ghis looked around at the carnage grimly. "I must get to him."

Rush nodded at the crush of daemons protecting de Rais. "If we break through we might have a chance."

Ghis nodded. She looked at Bedelia out of the corner of her eye. The blond vampire was breathing heavily and sweating but her lips were pulled back in a snarl and she gripped her broad sword in her hand as if it were her lifeline.

"We attack. I want you both behind me. I'll fight my way in and attack from the other side." Rush and Bedelia nodded though Rush did so stiffly.

Ghislaine moved like wind and was attacking the daemons before they could register it. They were quick to notice though and were very different from their animal resembling counterparts. Each one had a weapon for instance, and were quick to wield it. Others sported teeth, claws, and magic that spilled from their fingers like liquid death. Rush was immediately wounded, his left arm catching the claws of a short daemon causing his bow to fall to the floor lost among the feet of daemons and vampires in battle.

Bedelia showed no signs she was hurt once she began attacking. She hissed cursed at daemons as her broadsword bit into them like butter. Each one she hit melted in to shadows and didn't return. Ghislaine mused at the irony of that. Bedelia had always claimed it had been blessed by a Priest. Bedelia made good use of that blade, blessed as it was or not. She was beside Ghislaine the entire way.

Ghis grinned at her and they both attacked a daemon that moved like water and seemed to breath a poisoned ice. Bedelia finally had it by the throat when suddenly a shadow behind her shifted into a human like shape. Rush cried out and Bedelia turned, only to find the Daemon had her by the throat, ice creeping into her flesh and seeming to burn. Ghis dropped the shield and swung her sword and the Daemon's head came off. It fell to the floor and melted into a thousand bits of a spider-like things.

But it was too late. Bedelia fell to the floor where a dozen other shadows engulfed her. Rush spat out a word Ghis couldn't translate but understood the gist. But both Rush and Ghis were by far to occupied by the fray to go to her.

It didn't matter. They both already knew she was dead.

Rush had somehow coaxed his Will to bring him Bedelia's broadsword. He swung it with renew passion and daemons fell before him. Ghislaine also took out her rage on the daemons. One after another was forced to break into shadows and then form themselves into a solid shape again. Once she knew how to do it, it became easy, and they began to fall.

Suddenly a familiar voice cried out in pain and both Ghis and Rush froze. The voice was an oh so familiar one Ghis hadn't heard in a month's time.

"Purvis." Rush had found her before Ghislaine and she tracked his gaze to the throne. De Rais sat laughing as a daemon beside him held onto the small vampire who sagged in his grip obviously in pain. The daemon was dark red and seemed to radiate heat, the smell of burning flesh suddenly found its way to Ghislaine's nose. Her mate. Her lifebonded. De Rais had her the entire time. Ghislaine bared her teeth and growled low in her throat, the Dominant in her aroused to sudden rage.

"Ghislaine Dumas." Javier de Rais suddenly announced, his voice raised to be heard over the sound of the battle. "How pleased I am to see you've come to my celebration."

The daemons that blocked the path to the throne sudden melted into shadows and Ghislaine was free to approach the throne. Rush was so close to her side he was nearly in her pocket. She stopped before the throne, unable to hide her sneer.

"De Rais." She didn't spit the name as she was keeping strict control of her emotions.

The Necromancer laughed. "That is Lord de Rais, Ghislaine. You must use the proper title." He chided her with a wagging finger.

Rush growled low in his throat. "Release my sister, de Rais."

"How delightful to see you again, Gautier, kill anyone recently?" De Rais smirked and Rush's grip on Bedelia's broadsword grew tighter. The Necromancer straightened from his slouch in the throne. "I am going to kill her, Gautier, but not too soon. I owe you after all."

"Is that what this is about?" Rush was gritting his teeth in an effort to be calm.

"Oh, your ego is overwhelming, Gautier."De Rais laughed delightedly. "This has nothing to do with _you."_

"No. This is about Crescent." Ghislaine said evenly unable to take her eyes off her mate. The fair vampire was barely conscious and was only standing up because of the daemon that held her prisoner. "He wants to get to Kiinn."

"Actually, yes. And no. This is about death. I am well versed in death. Causing it, observing it, admiring it." De Rais shrugged. "I am actually here to kill you. All of you." His smile reached his eyes. "You are all going to die."

Ghislaine hissed at him. "Not if I kill you first."

De Rais merely grinned. "Look around you. Most of your people are dead. I have your mate. And now I have your brother."

Ghislaine's blood went cold.

She called on her Will, gathering it into her hand but it was too late. There was a pull in the shadows and then he was gone. A moment later so was Purvis.

* * *

A part of her broke inside.

She ignored it but Rush wasn't able to. He was faster than her and had attacked the red human-like daemon before she could stop him.

Rush was thrown back with a wave of the daemon's magic. He spat in rage and attacked again but was immediately tossed aside. "Stupid mortal child" The daemon hissed at him. "You will die. The Nigromancer will kill you if I cannot. It is best to simply surrender."

"Never!" Rush spat back.

"Very well." The daemon crowed. "Enjoy hell."

The daemon attacked him, claws out stretched. Rush jumped back and barely missed getting impaled. Ghislaine was also attacked, as the daemons behind her suddenly decided it might be a good idea. She was quick to defend herself and had to spit her attention between the daemons attacking her and the one attacking Rush.

He was so out of control. She could understand as she was a Dominant and loved Purvis too. But Rush was unmated; he had no lifebonded and had to maintain strict control because of it. When he lost that control Purvis was always there to help him gain it back. Now she was gone. And Ghislaine could smell Rush's panic and fear.

The daemon used teeth and claws and magic as weapons. The teeth were sharp and he was able to dodge them but the claws weren't so easy. He lost the broadsword when the daemon spat something yellow in his eyes. It seemed to burn and he lost his footing.

Ghislaine watched as he fell and tried to get through the daemons attacking but she wasn't able to reach him in time. The daemon was on him, teeth heading for his throat. A burst of Will from his hand sent the daemon skittering back, blinded by light.

And then she was free. Ghislaine's swords sent the last daemon bursting into shadows like sand and she was through.

But the daemon's yellow eyes stopped her in her tracks.

They seemed to slip into her mind, fingers and madness reaching into her thoughts and twisting them.

"_Kill him." _The voice in side her head was strangely familiar.

"Kill the vampire child called Rush."

Ghislaine struggled to shake the invading thoughts out of her head but her hand was gripping the swords and she was stepping closer to Rush who stood strangely still. The yellow eyes wouldn't release her and suddenly Rush moved, quick, as only a vampire could be. He had Bedelia's broadsword at her throat before she could blink.

And still she couldn't move.

"_Kill the vampire. Kill him." _

Her swords were poised to impale him. She tried to shake herself free but couldn't and the broadsword bit into her neck enough to spill blood. That seemed to shake Rush up enough for him to recognize what he was doing but he still couldn't break free. His blue eyes were pained. He smelled of pain and desperation and grief. And acceptance. He smelled resigned.

"_Kill Him!"_

No. No she couldn't. He couldn't make her. He was her best friend. Practically her brother. But her logical mind thought it through even as she struggled against the daemon's magic. She was the Lady of Crescent and therefore the one that had to live. She was in control where he had lost his. She was the better fighter. If anyone could defeat the daemon and then de Rais it would be her. She was also the lifebonded mate of Purvis Dumas where he was only her brother. Of the two he was an acceptable loss. But she just couldn't. Not even under the spell of a daemon.

"_Enough dithering about, mortal child. Kill him!" _

And she did. Her sword sank into his stomach then up through his heart.. He gasped and the broadsword dropped from its place at her throat. He was free the moment she stabbed him and he choked as he came back to himself. But she held the sword there and he couldn't heal himself. His blue eyes held hers, peaceful, forgiving, and finally calm before the light in them faded. And then she was free.

The daemon cackled madly but she couldn't move.

She had killed her best friend.

A mage bolt, bright and glorious, sailed over her head and hit the daemon who still laughed madly. He choked and then dissipated into nothing with a cut off scream.

Ghislaine was on her feet, the sword she had used to kill Rush in her left hand and the broadsword in her right, though she didn't know when she had gotten hold of it. She turned to face the new threat but stopped short when there were only two familiar faces present.

Fawne was there, her eyes unable to leave the body of Rush, and beside her stood a vampire. His hair was snow white, his eyes violet, and the battle robes he wore were black but blazed with the gold of the mage fire that climbed them in twisting vines.

"Osset're." Ghislaine didn't even recognize her voice. Closing her eyes she forced the pain, grief, and guilt down. "You came just a few moments too late."

Osset're raised an snowy eyebrow. "For some, perhaps, but not for you." His English was even more mangled than Fawne's but Ghislaine was more than happy to hear it. The Consort was here. That meant so was Kiinn.

Fawne spoke up. "Beh-dee-lia?"

Ghislaine just looked at her. The small vampire seemed to wilt then and looked around at the carnage with haunted eyes before settling again on Rush. Ghislaine could feel the guilt rising but forced it back and shook herself at if to get rid of it. She knew it wasn't her fault. Her heart simply didn't.

"De Rais has Anselm." Ghis started for them but stopped in shock as she took in the scene. There was nothing alive in the Great Hall but Fawne, the Consort, and herself. Not even the shadows remained.

The Consort blatantly ignored the dead clan that littered the floor. "Daemons." He said and shrugged. "They flee the moment they see mage fire."

Ghislaine blinked at him. They never did for her mage fire.

"Well, are we off to rescue Anni or not?" Osset're said it impatiently, hands waving about, obviously for greater emphasis.

Ghislaine tried to smile but couldn't.

He seemed to understand and simply motioned for her to come closer.

"Come, come, Ghislaine. I'll shadow walk us to Anselm."

Ghislaine took one last look at the broken body of Rush Gautier before turning away. She made her way to Fawne. Putting a hand on her shoulder she woke the girl from her shock. Fawne looked at her blankly for a moment before shaking herself and actually dredging up a smile.

"Teeme to kick ass, ehh, Ghis?" She whispered half heartedly and Ghislaine smiled painfully. The girl was calm, and rising above her grief. Ghislaine really ought to follow her example.

* * *

Osset're had never shadow walked Ghislaine before but to her surprise it wasn't as alarming as usual. The powerful vampire mage led the way through the darkness fearlessly and it was the quickest she had ever traveled through the shadows before.

Even as smooth as it was she was more than pleased to be quit of the darkness once she, Fawne, and the Consort arrived in a small room just off the Entrance Hall.

"Hate bloody shadow walking." The elven vampire muttered under his breath, brushing off his battle robes in disgust, as if the darkness had somehow left lint on them.

Ghislaine huffed in amusement but didn't go so far as to laugh. The Consort watched her with knowing eyes but she look away from the violet orbs as guilt threatened to claw its way out her throat.

A warm scent, almost indiscernible, rose off Osset're s he moved closer to her.

"Hate the daemon, not yourself." His whispered softly before leading them to the door to the Entrance Hall.

She wasn't prepared for the other devastation that was displayed in the Entrance Hall. To define it as carnage would be a gross understatement.

Daemons ran amok. The vampires present were outnumbered by hundreds. Whenever she looked death met another vampire whose face was achingly familiar, who was clan.

And the battle was vicious. The daemons didn't merely kill, they slaughtered. The screams of the dying were tortured screams. Even as bloodied a warrior as she was Ghislaine blanched at the sight before her.

The Consort did not. Osset're was a terrible force to meet as many dead enemies could attest and all who battled with him knew. His power was unmatched in the entire clan, in all of the Bloodlands, as few clans outside of Crescent could boast someone half as powerful. He lived up to his reputation with little error and announced his presence with a blinding display of mage light. Daemons scattered before that light to shadows quicker than her eyes could catch. Those that reformed were human-like one with teeth and horns and claws that they flashed as they cackled.

But Osset're's displayed scared away only the less powerful daemons and of the more powerful there seemed to be many. With fierce anticipation he jumped into the battle, magic spilling like water from his hands.

Ghislaine was right behind him, her sword and Bedelia's broadsword nearly as effective as the Consort's magic. Fawne joined in, letting out a loud battle cry that made Ghis wince. In her head she could just imagine her weapon's master snarling at her for breathing too hard, lest the enemy hear, and her position given away.

But she was forced to let it go as Fawne was soon in the thick of the battle and Ghislaine was fast matching skills with sword wielding daemons.

It was when she reached the middle of the Entrance Hall that she lost her composure.

Anselm, her little brother, the last connection she had to her parents, lay strapped to a wooden alter with a daemon perched on his chest.

The daemon was small and gray, with lines that ran throughout his skin like glowing blue tattoos. His teeth resembled a shark's and his eyes were red in color. Ghislaine broke through the barrier of daemons quite abruptly and just in time to see the daemon plunge his claws into Anselm's chest and. with a twist, pull out his heart.

Bringing the heart to his mouth the daemon swallowed the heart whole, stretching his mouth wide to encompass it all without biting into it. As it slunk down his throat he whined and then shattered into pieces of shadows that promptly disappeared.

Ghislaine lost control. Rage overtook her, her thoughts blurred into inconsistent rambles, and her Will refused to respond to her. But she was overcome by grief and didn't care. The world fell away into pain and killing and death. Daemons fell before her and reformed just to fall again. She didn't register wounds, even when the claw of a daemons when threw her stomach.

Even when Fawne was hit by one of her blades she couldn't stop. The small vampire was thrown back by her attack and quickly skittered away. She didn't see the shadow behind her that became the head of a giant snake with fangs that dripped with a glistening yellow liquid. And when it swallowed her whole it took her by such a surprise she never screamed.

It was her lord that shook her out of it. Suddenly Kiinn was there and he didn't hesitate hit her hard enough to knock her down.

"Ghislaine Dumas, you are out of control." He hissed at her sternly, towering over her like a giant demigod.

He was so close she could smell his disapproval as well as the blood that spilled from several wounds. Her thoughts, however, refused stand still. She had lost her clan, her mate, her best friend, and her brother. She couldn't gain control of herself anymore. The part that was _Dominant_ was so lost. Half of her was already dead and deep down the rest wanted to die too. She simply stared at him, forgetting her place. He was quick to remind her with another blow, his fangs bared.

They were interrupted by daemons and Kiinn's sword found its way into them with little effort. Ghislaine didn't react until Kiinn reached down and dragged her up by her hair. Then she hissed at him in outrage. How dare he! She was no submissive. But he did dare. He had pulled her out of harm's way and back towards where Osset're defended Dejah, who lay unmoving, her side bloody and visibly clawed. She lost her sword in the process and Bedelia's had grown heavy and she was forced to let it drag on the ground behind her.

Then Kiinn had her on her knees before him. She wasn't sure how, and he physically forced her head down. Every part of her screamed defiance but inside she could feel his Dominance. He was her lord, her leader, and she would submit to him whether she wanted to or not. That she hadn't, showed how out of control she really was.

This was the choice she had made when she chose to walk the path he did. This was the entire point of the Ancient Ways. She wasn't powerful in magic. Her Will was average at best. It was her strength in body and mind, heart and soul that really helped her. It was what made her Dominant. But a good Dominant showed respect. They showed respect to those more powerful then themselves whether it be a more powerful Dominant or a more powerful submissive.

She bowed her head, relaxed her shoulders, and tilted her head. Her unbound hair fell to one side, baring her neck. But it wasn't enough. She had grossly overstepped, fallen so far, and lost control. It was unacceptable for a Dominant more especially a Lady. Her lord had the right to punish her severely. She gave up control, willingly and wholeheartedly. And finally her thoughts calmed into coherency.

"I'm sorry, my lord." She whispered, ashamed. "I don't know how to apolo-"

The snap of teeth cut her short. "Be silent."

The hissed order nearly made her wince but she controlled her reaction and pushed down her emotions.

"Who am I?"

She held herself very still. "Lord Kiinn, my lord."

Long fingers gripped her chin and pulled it up. Duel eyes of silver and black boring into her softly. "You _are_ strong enough to continue." She wanted to look away but couldn't.

Abruptly she was released and a Bedelia's broadsword pushed into her hands. "Up, Lady Dumas" She didn't have a choice as she was pulled up by a gentle hand and pushed her at Dejah. "You will want to say goodbye." He glanced at the werewolf. "Silver," he explained.

Dejah died before she could reach her. The daemon's poison proved to be too much. She ran bloodied fingers through the soft fur. Her emotions ran beneath her thoughts, accessible, but not prevalent.

* * *

Gripping the sword she stood and turned back to the battle. Osset're was fighting three daemons that spilled a dark cold magic from their hands. Hylaarr had somehow lost his sword and was dodging curses that a green haired witch spat from a wooden stick. Daemons inside shadows seemed to cover the floor in a carpet of rolling darkness. Every so often claws would swipe out and trip a member of Crescent clan.

Ghislaine jumped back into the fray with a single goal in mind. Revenge. She dove into the thick of the battle with mindless ferocity; nearly tripping over Ciel who crouched, hidden beneath half a dozen bodies, and muttered enchantments beneath her breath.

"Lady Dumas?" She whispered, eyes staring blankly, sounding unsure. Ghislaine grimaced. When a vampire was unsure of your scent it meant you really needed a bath.

"Yes, Ciel. Its me."

Ciel gasped, dropped her eyes submissively, and bared her neck with one hand before offering up both wrists in supplication.

"My Lady, your brother is dead." She whispered and didn't moved to defend herself as a daemon struck near her head. Ghislaine defended her but she still didn't move. "I am at fault, precious Lady. I have no excuse."

Another daemon tossed deadly magic a bit too close for comfort and again she was forced to defend the powerful Enchantress. "Ciel." She said with irritation.

Ciel cringed at her tone. "My life is yours to take, Lady Dumas."

"Ciel get up this instant." Ghislaine hissed. "You are not at fault for his death but if I die defending you while you sit on your arse doing nothing you _will_ be at fault for _mine_."

Ciel hesitated momentarily but finally stood just as de Rais appeared, blue and green daemons that resembled rats of unusual size. Grinning directly at Ghislaine he motioned to the shadows in front of him and with a pull, shadow walked out and was gone.

The shadows gathered in intensity and pulled themselves together to manifest into a tall solid shape. A blue man with maroon eyes and yellow spikes stood staring at Ciel.

She sniffed, then gasped, and stepped back once before stopping. "Shabiri." She breathed. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and they stared unseeingly in the daemon's direction.

The daemon grinned, and his eyes were wide with madness. He breathed yellow smoke, which twisted in the air strangely. It sank and rose and made it's way to the Enchantress who couldn't move. Just before it reached her Ghislaine regained the sense of mind to knock the submissive out of the way. Ciel fell to the floor, her fair skin getting even more stained by the blood that pooled there.

Ghislaine attacked the daemon but her sword cut through him as if he weren't solid at all. Hissing she turned to Ciel only to mutter a french curse under her breath. The Enchantress lay on the floor, back arched in pain as the yellow smoke fed itself into her mouth and nose. Her lungs worked fiercely, trying to breath, but only succeeded in helping the daemon's magic sink into her lungs faster. When the smoke was gone she chocked once before rolling over and gaging.

Ghislaine started for the Enchantress but the tortured sound of her lord caught her attention. She turned to see Lord Kiinn on his back, the witch holding her stick pointed at him, and an unnatural red light stretching from her stick to him in an unbroken light.

Kiinn writhed and twisted, his body arching with spasms so bad that the sound of bones snapping could be heard from across the room. His screams were the worst, though. Never had she heard the Lord of Crescent scream so.

A mage bolt abruptly knocked the stick from the witch's hand and her lord was released but still didn't move. She heard beautiful elven words spat in ugly panic from Osset're but noticed he was being hemmed in by shadows and daemons so much he was forced to hold a shield around him as he found. A glance back at Ciel showed that she was white with pain and unable to move but another cry from her Lord made her decision. She was across the room slower than she preferred but reached the witch fast enough to surprise her.

"Sorci re." Ghis spat like curses at the girl even as she broke her stick. The witch merely cackled madly, her eyes senseless with shadows dancing in them.

Possessed then.

The witch danced back agilely and nearly retreated to a safe distance but Kiinn attacked before she could. He had the witch in his teeth and shook her like a dog. Her neck snapped and he dropped her, breathing hard. With a glance at Ghis he nodded and started back across the room to Osset're.

A whisper of foreboding was her only indication. The witch cackled with a voice not her own and pointed a stick a the back of her lord.

"Die, Hylaarr Kiinn, enemy of my Master de Rais."

The words were spoken so low Ghislaine was surprised she had heard it all. A green light began it's way out of the stick and she made her choice. She stepped into the green light, and felt it hit, shocking the breath and soul out of her.

She thought she heard the familiar sound of Purvis calling her before everything was black and then gone.

* * *

July 30th.

Sunset.

Kiinn was ready.

Blood coursed down his hands in creeping rivulets spilling down his fingers to drip onto the floor. The scent was fresh., the blood, a mingling of his own and his mate's. He stood with his head pressed against the cool marble wall, one hand supporting him so he wouldn't fall. His injuries were enough to make him weak with blood loss despite the small amount he had drained from the silly witch.

Javier de Rais was a necromancer. Necromancers were not normally a friend to any kind of people but generally let alone to live their life as they returned the favor. Now one had declared war against the Bloodlands. He had killed those who named themselves a part of Kiinn's clan. Kiinn was his clan. His clan was him. When it was being attacked he felt compelled to defend it not by the oaths he took upon declaring himself lord, not even by the very code he followed, the Ancient Ways, but by a part of him in his soul. The part that was Dominant and needed to protect his family, friends, children, and clan as he needed to protect himself.

What Javier de Rais had done by attacking Fleur de Sang, Kiinn likened to throwing down a gauntlet. Oh he was quite aware of the challenge that had been made. The massacre had been no more than a childish prod at the Lord of Crescent goading him int a fight. Goading him so he would be blinded by fury and would fall into a neatly laid trap.

But many young fools had tried their blade against Kiinn's and lost. Kiinn was ready. Javier de Rais wasn't the first vampire nor the first necromancer to think himself more skilled then Hylaarr Somus Moonrun Silvereyes Kiinn. The others were dead now and so would de Rais be. Soon. Just as Ghislaine Dumas was.

"Hylaarr."

His mate stood behind him, a warm hand brushing his left shoulder. Osset're was the only one who could get so close without Hylaarr noticing. Especially when he was like this.

"Wallowing in guilt won't bring them back, Hylaarr Kiinn." Osset're sounded slightly exasperated. He blew out an irritated breath before murmuring,"Beloved," in a much more concerned way.

Hylaarr sighed. He had said beloved in elven. His mate knew he loved that word spoken in elven. Osset're had done it on purpose in an effort to calm him.

"I am aware." Kiinn shrugged in an effort to shake off the guilt. "But I am at fault nevertheless."

Abruptly he turned to face his mate. Osset're stood pale, skin flushed with lingering battle fever and splashed with blood. His violet eyes watched Hylaarr and his magic, tired after its exertions, simply swirled around his battle robes.

"I should have anticipated an attack."

"Sennett's been an ally for years, Hylaarr." Osset're tilted his head. "You should have anticipated an attack, which you did when you sent Ghislaine, but not one of such magnitude. Hylaarr."

Osset're took a deep breath and stepped forward. "It wasn't your fault." His mate whispered it into his ear. Kiinn could hear the carefully concealed waver in his voice. His submissive was exhausted, more so than Kiinn do doubt as he had been wielding mage magic. It was time to put away the grief and guilt and tend to his mate. He brought a gentle hand around Osset're's waist pulling him closer. His mate sighed and he felt even more guilt. His mate had needed him for comfort and he had been here, wallowing, when he should have been taking care of it.

"I hate daemons." Osset're muttered into his chest.

Kiinn chucked then grimaced and his humor. His emotions were running away from his control. He must be very tired to let such a thing happen. They both were very tired. Time to feed and sleep. Later he could call Kian if she was needed.

Kiinn closed his eyes, and looked beyond the darkness there, searching for another kind of darkness. He sought the shadows. Different vampires claimed to find it in different places but Kiinn had always found it just to his right as if it sat beside his ear. With little effort he touched his mate with his Will, a rather unnecessary labor as his Will always anticipated when he wanted his mate with him and would simply bring Osset're along regardless, and slowly stepped into the darkness.

Each time it was different. Sometime it was as if he were running down a tunnel that had no end, sometimes as if he were climbing a tree blindfolded, sometimes he was simply falling endlessly. The trick was to declare where he wanted to be before he took that first step and then to not leave the path the darkness created. Those who had left that path at best were lost forever. He was too heart-sick to think about what was the worst that could happen. The battle had made him sick to death of daemons.

The darkness wasn't natural. In natural darkness any vampire could still see. The barest bit of light would be caught by their eyes and allow them to see to a lesser or greater degree, such as with cats or other nocturnal creatures. In this darkness there was no such thing as sight. It was as if light never existed and, even if you had only shadow walked to the next room, you would feel as if you had forgotten what sight was when you were in the shadows.

It took years for a young vampire to learn how to do it and even more years for one to become used to it. Some never did. His own mate Osset're had done it once and refused to do so again. After a decade Kiinn had managed to teach him but it had never been his favorite activity. Even almost 70 years later the elven vampire preferred Kiinn to shadow walk them and used his mage talents to get around on his own. The inhabitants of Crescent allowed it as Osset're was their Lord's Consort and they loved him but Hylaarr made sure to emphasize that his mate was more than capable of sending them all to the moon with a wink of his violet eye if they so much as teased him for it. Kiinn allowed no one to tease his mate, except himself of course. The elven vampire was far too sensitive and took a lot said literally.

Stepping out of the shadows in to The Golden Suite was more than pleasant. The setting sun lit up the room in a blaze of warm light and was a welcome relief to drive off the memory of the darkness of the shadows. Yawning Osset're pulled away and stretched wincing as a few closing wounds pulled away from scabs and started bleeding. Kiinn was both reminded of his anger at his mate's wounds and reminded of his hunger. His eyes tracked his mate's path to their bed and his stomach protested at the thought of a moment's more of waiting.

"Oh, bless Seren, there's food." Osset're was reaching for the chilled bottle of blood before he'd finished his sentence. "Soo hungry." His violet eyes met Kiinn's over the top of the glass. They grew heavy as he tipped the glass back and drank. Another hunger made itself known but Kiinn knew better than to indulge in that one with so many wounds open and so much blood loss. More the pity. He would have to satisfy himself with his mate's blood for now.

He shed his bloody clothes as he made his way to the bed and Osset're had finished off the bottle by then as well. His mate, ever the accommodating Submissive, tilted his head to the side baring his neck. Hylaarr wasted no time in sinking his fangs into the welcoming flesh.

Osset're's blood was hot and tasted of cinnamon and chilies and maple syrup. It washed the taste of the witch he had killed away and filled him with the love and magic of his life bonded. Nothing Hylaarr had ever tasted had ever compared to his mate's blood. Out of devotion he drank nothing but it for sustenance, a practice more often than not taken up by Submissive's, but one Kiinn had embraced as a way of showing his mate every day that he loved him.

His mate made little muttering sounds, something he was saying in elven but Kiinn couldn't muster up the brain power to translate, and arched his neck more. So pleasing his mate was to him. So submissive. So, utterly, _Kiinn's_.

But the battle fever wasn't long passed and when the feeling of someone entering their chamber with a loud crack kit him Hylaarr had pulled smoothly out of his mate's neck and faced the potential threat with a half sword in hand before he had even registered it. His eyes immediately lit on the new occupant and he almost felt his heart stop.

The boy. The boy, Harry, was back.

"Oh." Osset're was across the room in seconds but Kiinn was there first. The child was asleep on the bench beside his work table, curled up so tight it was a wonder he could breathe. Kiinn held his mate back a moment and reached out with his Will, looking for anything out of order. His Will inspected the boy, but the child was unconscious, and not even a thought could be heard coming from his mind.

"Oh, Ninlil," His mate suddenly breathed and Kiinn abruptly could smell rage coming off his mate. He looked and what had caught Osset're's attention suddenly caught his.

A scar.

There at his throat, a thin red line that swept from one side of his throat to the other, was visible. With a trembling hand Kiinn reached out and pushed the boy's chin back a bit. He was truly unconscious, as his head simply fell back to rest against the cold marble bench. Kiinn's fingers traced the red line and he struggled to keep himself under control.

Someone had cut the boy's throat. Slit it.

He would kill them.

Osset're was the first to react. He gently pulled the boy off the bench and cradled his small frame in his arms. Kiinn was alert for any odd happenings as he followed his mate. Osset're gently set the boy down on the bed and started scanning him with his magic, green and gold spilling from his fingers to seep into the boy. The magic took too long in Kiinn's opinion to read the boy but after a few minutes rose out of him and swirled into elven script.

The boy was in much better health than last time. He had been eating regularly and sleeping as well. There appeared to be quite a lot of blood loss though, and the scar made one assume that the boy had been hurt recently and healed. There was no residual healing magic, however, and Kiinn could feel his sharp canines against his lower lip as he bared his teeth. Again he struggled to reign in his emotions.

Osset're stroked the boy's dark hair. It had grown a bit since they last saw him. "Should we call Kian?" His mate asked him softly, apparently in effort to get a reaction out of him.

Kiinn shook himself mentally and reached out for the boy's wrist. He counted heartbeats. The boy's heart beat was slower than he would have liked. Perhaps a blood replenishing potion.

"Kian has enough to do. I have potions." Kiinn flexed his Will and called for the potion bottles he needed. Carefully he sat on the bed beside the boy and put a hand on his chest. Looking at his mate, who was biting his lip and staring at the new scar on the boy, he motioned for his attention. "Wake him, he'll need to take the potions and then sleep."

Osset're hesitated a moment then nodded. A breath of magic swirled around him and into the boy who took a sudden breath and opened his eyes before choking on it and coughing.

"Easy, child, shh." Osset're murmured in the boy's ear. Kiinn's hand on his chest kept him from moving too much. "Your safe Harry."

Kiinn gently moved his fingers in a circular motion on the boy's chest and his breathing eased. Green eyes watched him carefully.

"You are back." Kiinn stated the obvious but it seemed the thing to do as the boy relaxed great and sighed deeply upon his words. Kiinn motioned to his throat. "What happened?"

The boy flinched before his expression smoothed into a calm one. Kiinn frowned. The child was going to start lying. He had already begun with his face. Not even vampire children were excepted to control their emotions the way the boy did. He had done this before and successfully spun lies and truth together so Kiinn couldn't tell them apart. That would not happen again.

"You will tell me." Kiinn commanded in his best Dominant tone.

The boy looked away before sighing. After a moment his eyes found Kiinn's tentatively and he sighed again. He opened his mouth and said something but nothing came out. The boy blinked in surprise and slowly touched his throat. His eyes widened at the scar he felt beneath his fingers.

Kiinn could feel the shock and sudden horror that he suddenly smelt and knew the boy had just remembered what had happened. Kiinn leaned forward expectantly. The boy noticed and quickly tried again. Again nothing came out.

Osset're was, again, the first to react. He spilled magic from himself into the boy so quickly it was a wonder Kiinn saw it. Kiinn frowned. The boy couldn't speak more than likely because of his wound. Perhaps he had healed wrong, perhaps a curse, or perhaps he simply was pretending. Emotional shock could be the answer as well; anything was possible. It was even more likely that someone had done to him on purpose. Made him unable to speak in order to keep him for speaking to them. Perhaps whoever had taken him away. If someone had. It was incredibly frustrating that he knew nothing of what was going on.

The magic rose to hover into a mist above the boy who simply stared at it in dismay. It said nothing it hadn't before. There apparently was nothing wrong with the boy. At least not physically. Damn. There must be some way.

Osset're had anticipated his desires though and his magic fed it self into his hands in order to create a pad of paper and a pen. He held out to the boy just before scooting himself behind the boy and pulling him to lean back into his stomach. The boy grew tense at the contact before relaxing and accepting the pad of paper.

Carefully The boy wrote on paper, eyes flickering up once to glance at Kiinn. He made sure to look stern. He wanted answers and this time truthful ones. After a minute or two the boy was finished and handed Kiinn the pad of paper. He accepted it with a nod, which cause the boy to relax, and began to read.

"Hylaarr," The note began and Kiinn couldn't help the warmth that he felt at the boy's address. _"I am very sorry I am here again. I don't know it happened. I was separated from my aunt and uncle when we were in London. Some boys grabbed me and tried to steal my shoes and coat. One had a knife. I think I got hurt. My magic,"_ The ink was heavy where the boy hesitated over writing the word. _"must have brought me here. I'm sorry."_

Kiinn handed the paper to Osset're who had been twitching all the while Kiinn took his time but hadn't wanted to leave to boy to read the note over his shoulder. He watched as his mate frowned while he read it. The boy really was a very good liar. And the paper and pen wasn't a very good idea as it game him too much time to think over his answers.

"Harry." His mate had trouble controlling exasperation in his voice. "You never mentioned an aunt or uncle."

The boy blinked once, slowly. Then he grinned widely and motioned for the paper. He wrote for a minute before passing it to Kiinn. Osset're frowned at having to wait and Kiinn smirked at him before reading.

"_I got them right after I left here. I woke up in a hospital and the nice lady said that they'd found them for me. Then they came and took me home with them! I got a room and I have a cousin and I got to go to a nice school. My uncle is really big but he's nice and my Aunt tells me stories about when she and my mum were kids. I'm really happy!"_

The writing was messier this time and had a lot of exclamation points. Kiinn blew out an amused breath and passed the paper to his mate. Osset're openly chuckled at the note and the boy relaxed.

"I'm glad your happy, little one, but why didn't you use magic to get away from those boys?" Osset're sounded very shocked and bewildered.

The boy took the paper right out of his hands and wrote a bit before handing it, again, to Kiinn first. Kiinn wanted to laugh. The boy might pretend he was normal but the submissive behavior gave it all away. He deferred to Kiinn, the Dominant. He was talking, if you could call it that, to Osset're but he was sure to include Kiinn in everything he said. That pleased him. It meant there was hope for the boy yet.

"I- I don't know how to do that much. And my aunt, and uncle, and cousin, their not magic. They don't have any. I don't want to make them unhappy." The last word had been gone over as if the boy had begun writing something else. Kiinn handed it to his mate.

Osset're raised an eyebrow over it but merely smiled at the boy and hugged him tighter against him. The boy motioned for the paper and wrote very quickly. Kiinn accepted the note.

"Why are you bleeding everywhere?" Kiinn looked at him a moment but the boy was staring at his bare chest in dismay. He found the wording a bit strange. The boy didn't ask, 'How did you get hurt?' as a child normally would. Kiinn filed it away.

"We were fighting off an attack at one of our holdings, child,"Osset're said very carefully after reading the note. "The Necromancer who attacked us was very strong."

The boy yawned and nodded before scooting closer to Osset're. His mate smiled at that and leaned back against the pillow a bit. After a moment Kiinn remembered the potions. He picked them up and crawled across his mate's legs to sit beside him and the boy. Osset're touched the boy's face lightly, to wake him up, but the boy merely shook his head.

"Potions, Harry." Osset're whispered in his ear. "Hylaarr will throw a fit if you don't take them" The boy smiled and opened his eyes slightly. Those green orbs watched him as he pulled out the cork and gently fed the potions to him. He made a face at the taste but did nothing to stop him.

Kiinn relaxed. He'd worried that so long away would make the boy hate them, or forget everything. Most submissives needed reinforced assurance that it was okay to be submissive and that they were loved for doing so. Of course Harry wasn't a normal submissive chide and was in actuality human. Most humans found it very hard to follow the Ancient Ways because of the Dominant and Submissive factor. They didn't understand the reason for categorizing themselves in such a way because they had no need to do so.

Kiinn relaxed into the pillows and snuggled closer to his mate and the boy. The boy yawned again. He slowly moved his hand and touched the boy's neck tracing the scar. The boy froze, swallowed hard, and relaxed. Osset're caught his hand and pulled it away holding his fingers tightly. Their entwined hands rested on the boy's chest.

"We are very pleased to see you, Harry." Osset're whispered it slowly. The boy reached up a hand and caressed their hands once.

Osset're sighed. "We thought we might not see you again, Harry."

The boy didn't respond but his eyes were open.

"We missed you, Harry." Kiinn reinforced that fact with a light kiss to the boy's head. He sighed again, a shaky thing, and leaned his head into the kiss.

Osset're smelled of sorrow and cleared his voice before speaking again. "Years ago Hylaarr and I conceived a child. A magical child. I knew the moment he was created. He felt like a ball of love and light inside me. Hylaarr called Kian when I told him. He was convinced something was wrong with me. He badgered Kian to find something and she finally told him. 'He's expecting, Lord Kiinn, and you better get used to it.' Poor Hylaarr. He was so excited. We had him for a day. And then he was gone. There was an attack on Crescent and I was knocked unconscious. When I woke the next day he was gone. I couldn't feel him. I just felt empty." Osset're's scent matched how Kiinn felt. "I loved him so much."

Again Kiinn struggled to control his emotions. Why did Osset're have to bring this up now. He was so tired. He had no control.

"We felt, we feel, that way about you, Harry. We love you." Osset're took a deep breath. "And when you left I felt so empty."

'And so did I.' Kiinn couldn't breathe through the pain. That child had been the center of his world for a day. When he lost him a part of him died. That part was only brought to life again nine months ago when he met Harry. He'd had Harry for a the same amount of time. And he had felt just as empty. The child had no idea of the effect he had on them.

Suddenly the boy pulled away. Kiinn let him and he twisted around to stare at them. Finally he mouthed 'I'm sorry.' There was a faint pull and then the boy was gone.

Osset're sucked in a breath and let it hiss out.

* * *

**Ok Darlin's. How was that? I think that went rather well. Err, not th****e speaking terrible French part but the story part. Ignore the French. It's been a while since I studied it.**

**I was tempted to split it as this chapter is the longest yet but I really couldn't give you all two chapters in a row without Harry. That would have been too evil.**

**Next chapter Harry's 8****th**** birthday and his new pet.**

**French Kisses for everyone. **

**Fitful.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay Lovelies. The Chapter after this one, Harry leaves the Dursleys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hooray, Hoorah, and all that. **

**This chapter is kinda filler, as I had a list of things I needed to write before Harry left and I suddenly got here and none of it was written. **

**So enjoy a lighter, slightly fun chapter. **

**Oh and the Fairy Tale's all mine. I only wrote what's there though. Rather nice for my first Fairy Tale ending.**

Chapter 12

July 31st

Morning.

Harry awoke to a cat sitting on his chest. It was watching him out of a duel set of blue and gold eyes and purring with rather nauseating intensity.

Opening it's mouth instead of mewing at him it said in a rather high-pitched, mangled English, "If you keep me secret then I will stay with you."

Harry's mouth dropped open but the cat cut him off before he could even think about speaking.

"No you may _not_ speak. The Fat One cut your throat. I was barely able to heal you in time and you're _still_ healing. As it is you may never talk again." The duel eyes blinked at him and Harry couldn't pick up any emotion from the cat at all. "I've put a magical block on your voice. There will be **no** talking."

The no kind of echoed a bit inside Harry's head. Harry blinked at him. What?

"You will learn mind speech. You will need it to talk to me." The cat stretched slowly, claws catching on Harry's shirt. "As it is your birthday I will take it easy on you."

Wait. What?

"Now to begin. Clear your mind." Harry wanted to laugh. Clear his mind? What did that even mean?

The cat meeped at him in disgust. "Don't be stupid. Do I have to push you off a bridge? You must empty your mind of all thoughts. Then you project one thought, one single idea, outward." Suddenly the cat was in his face, whiskers tickling his nose, until cat's eyes were the only thing he could see. "Like this. **Happy Birthday Harry**."

The words weren't said aloud. They were actually heard from inside his head. As if someone else had thought them in his mind. It shocked him but wasn't really shocking. Harry had become used to strange things happening to him. It was what the cat had said that caught his attention.

Carefully he pushed all his thoughts back, pushing them deep down, as he had when the Bumblebee was in his mind. Then he formed his question and pushed it out, out of his eyes and into the cat's duel set.

"**It isn't my birthday."**

The cat blinked at him then made a dissaproving sound before pulling back to sit on his chest. "**Well if you knew how to do it, why didn't you say so?**" Harry might not have felt any emotions from the cat but the voice in his mind was obviously irritated. "**And you don't even know when your birthday is. How do you know its not today?**"

Harry shook his head. He supposed he didn't know. Petunia had never said when his birthday was. He had never asked. Careful. The whisper in his head was back, but sounded far away. Harry acknowledged it but ignored it. The cat might be magical and a bit rude but it seemed all right. And Harry was too tired to be suspicious.

He tentatively moved his hand and reached up and touched his neck. There. There was a scar. Harry sighed. He had hoped that part hadn't happened. He had hoped Dudley hadn't even found out. His eyes lingered on the cat. Perhaps the cat . . . But no. Even to ask a magical cat to erase his cousin's memories could qualify as using magic. Perhaps even talking to a magical cat with his mind. Harry frowned.

The prick of sharp claws kneading his stomach brought his attention back to the cat. It was nearly all white but had splotches of gold and black on its face and tail and a single gold splatter on its back. The cat purred at the attention as Harry looked it over. Reaching out a hand he touched it very carefully. The cat purred louder and butted its head against Harry hands. It was very soft. Harry couldn't remember ever touching a cat but he had touched Marge Dursley's dog Ripper before it snapped at him. It hadn't been so soft. The cat tilted its head so Harry's fingers would scratch its chin. Harry obliged willingly.

"**My name is Se'ir. I think I will let you keep me.**"

Harry snorted at him but couldn't resist a slight smile. The cat reminded him of Osset're.

"**I'm Harry.**" It was odd speaking like this but not bad. Similar to when he went into someone's head.

The cat yawned. "**I know. The Small Fat One said so when he was here."**

Small fat one? Oh. "**Dudley was here?**"

"**Is **_**that**_** his name?** **What horrible people his parents must be."**

Harry laughed at that comment. It was strange that it came out so silently. He grimaced as he remembered. Poor Dudley. How much had he heard? How much did he know? He suddenly looked around. He sighed. He was back in Dudley's second bedroom again.

The cat stopped purring and turned his head to the door. Harry looked as well. The door cracked open as Harry stared at it. Blond hair topped a chubby face that was pinched in worry. With that expression on his face Harry thought he looked like Petunia.

But the emotions from the boy that suddenly filled his throat were never something Petunia Dursley would feel towards Harry. Worry. Sympathy. Longing. Fear. They choked him and he couldn't resist the temptation to cough. The noise was barely that; it was so quiet. But Dudley managed to catch it and, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he scooted through the open door and closed it behind him.

"Harry." He said, trying to whisper but failing to in his excitement. He stood by the door staring at Harry, his face pale.

His eyes never settled on the cat though.

"**I am not an ordinary cat.**" Se'ir said it smugly. Harry felt another smile curve his mouth.

"You're awake." Dudley's eyes met him momentarily before he quickly glanced away. "Are-" He cleared his throat and tried to speak louder. "All right?"

Harry stared at him. If he wasn't mistaken Dudley felt guilty. Harry sighed. The fact that he couldn't talk wasn't going to help. He nodded instead hoping to stave off more guilt.

This new Dudley wasn't very helpful in that regard. He crept closer, his fingers twisting themselves together, his lip held between his teeth.

"Are you sure?" He stopped just before the bed. "I-i was worried."

Harry sighed. Dudley wasn't going to be put off this time. It was slightly odd. Dudley was worried. About him. It was . . . astounding. Resigned, he put a hand to his throat, and tried to speak. Nothing came out predictably.

Dudley's eyes grew wide. "You can't talk!" He exclaimed, then winced at the loudness of it and looked over his shoulder as if he could see through the wall. He looked back at Harry and bit his lip again. "Sorry."

Harry shook his head. He didn't know why Dudley was apologizing.

"You really can't talk?"

Harry shook his head. Dudley sighed. "Do- Are you mad?"

What? Harry frowned and shook his head again. He didn't understand.

Dudley clarified. "At Mum and Dad I mean. For what they did. . . . for what they do."

Oh. Bloody Hell. He did know about the abuse. Or if he didn't he had suspicions. And Harry couldn't even talk Dudley into understanding.

"Cause you should, you know." His voice sounded hard. A bit too hard for an eight year old and Dudley in particular. "I am."

Harry shook his head but Dudley interrupted him.

"No Harry. I am mad. They a-abuse you." His voice trembled but he managed to get the word out. Harry stared at him in dismay. "I think you should tell someone."

Harry shook his head frantically. No. No he couldn't tell anyone. The door opened suddenly and Petunia walked in. She stared at them, uncertainty in her eyes.

"Dudley." She looked at her son, her eyes wide and strange. "Piers is here."

Dudley didn't even look at her. "Just a second."

Petunia's head twitched oddly on her neck. Still staring she backed out of the room and closed the door softly. Dudley heaved a sigh and turned to leave. He paused just before opening it.

"If you don't find someone to tell I will."

And then he left. Harry couldn't have spoken even if there was nothing wrong with his voice.

"**I think I like that boy.** " Se'ir sounded impressed. "**Despite his utterly horrid name.**"

* * *

Se'ir was an odd cat. He didn't behave normally. He refused to chase mice, play, or do anything that required running about. In short he was lazy. But he was rather talented magic wise. The Dursleys never saw him for instance, even when he was right in front of their noses. He never needed food. At first Harry tired to share a bit of his meal with him but the cat had sniffed it and turned away proclaiming it, '**Unfit for human consumption let alone the likes of me.**' He said similar derogatory things whenever Harry offered after that. He also could genuinely speak aloud, although his English was terrible and he only did so occasionally.

Another thing that made Se'ir unlike other cats was his tail. It wasn't long at all, perhaps half an inch if that, and the fur on it poofed out into a fuzzy ball. It actually looked like a rabbit's tail but Harry wouldn't dare say such a thing to the prickly feline. Se'ir did use his claws when he thought he had a reason to after all.

Harry had been horrified when he first saw it. He had immediately thought someone had chopped it off. Se'ir had laughed.

"You offend me." Se'ir had said coldly. "**I used magic to make it this way."**

Harry had been unconvinced that Se'ir was telling the truth. "**Why would you do that?**"

"**The Japanese have suspicions about cats with long tails. They think that if it grows too long then the cat will suddenly sprout another one. The second tail will give it gifts of shape-shifting, talking, walking on its hind legs, and resurrecting the dead. The Japanese people started cutting off their cat's tails hundreds of years ago and to this day most cats there have tails like mine.**"

Se'ir sniffed indignantly. "**Utter fantasy I assure you. Imagine, cats walking like humans.**"

Harry had noticed he hadn't said anything refuting the other magical abilities. Se'ir did have at least talking down, and Harry was curious about the other things. He often wondered if he had maybe died and the Dursleys never noticed. He didn't dare ask though.

"**As it happens I visited Japan around the time that those bizarre mortals were cutting off every cat's tail that they could see and it seemed prudent to make mine short in order to avoid mutilation.**" His tail waggled a bit as if aware it was being talked about. "**Unfortunately I wasn't too experienced with my magic then and my tail got stuck this way.**"

Harry had laughed at Se'ir's muttered confession. "**How old are you?" **He had to be two hundred at least.

Se'ir had sneered at him, although Harry wasn't sure how he did it.

"**Its rude to ask a cat their age.** "

Harry had frowned, thinking there was something off about that sentence but let it go. Se'ir was rather touchy.

* * *

The summer was odd. Dudley was gone through most of it. He spent the days with Piers and his other friends. He only came home for dinner and then he took his food to his room. He didn't spend a lot of time with Harry but did check on him often. Harry could feel his worry whenever he was in the room.

Petunia seemed heart-broken. Her son refused to talk to her. He refused to even look at her. He was barely eating. She was taking it hard. As usual she was blaming Harry, but unusually she did nothing about it. Her anger and rage and heart ache and sorrow just simmered under the surface. After a while it started to make Harry nauseous.

Vernon Dursley was an angry man as Harry knew well. He was angry at Harry for being a freak. He was angry at Dudley for knowing about the . . . punishments. He was angry at his wife for being related to Harry. The entire situation made him hopping mad. It made him all the more eager to deal out punishments, and to make them hard to forget.

Vernon took his anger out on Harry. He didn't bother with creative torture but simply used his fists. As Harry was staying in Dudley's second bedroom indefinitely he was able to close the door and take his time.

He came up with a simple routine. He would come home from work and punish Harry until Dudley would arrive. Despite the fact that Dudley knew he tried to hide it. It didn't work as Dudley now considered himself Harry's friend and made sure to visit Harry often when he was home.

Harry had no chores. He wasn't allowed out of his room unless he needed to loo. He wasn't allowed out of the house for any reason. As Harry wasn't around Petunia and Vernon never noticed he didn't talk. Dudley knew, of course, but he never said anything. Harry no longer sat at the dinner table. Dudley would bring him his meal when he took his to his room. Harry was grateful. It was the only meal he got each day.

It may have sounded like an awful summer, even for Harry, but it was actually one of the best summers of his life.

By the time dinner started each evening Harry was fast approaching unconsciousness. He only held on long enough to eat and use the loo before he collapsed. Then he was asleep until around noon the next day when Se'ir would finish healing him. He basically spent the entire summer at Crescent.

At first he felt guilty. The punishments were just that. Punishments. Didn't he need to suffer? In order to learn his lessons and all that. But after a while he was just so tired he stopped caring. The beatings were hard enough to deal with but the time spent healing and the lack of food took it's toll. His time at Crescent with Osset're and Hylaarr was a respite from his normal life. He even sometimes imagined that he was normal. That he was like any other little boy and didn't need punishments.

The summer progressed with Harry's punishments erratically getting worse then letting off to nothing. Se'ir slept when Harry was awake as he used up so much energy healing him. That made Harry feel worse then usual but he remained firm in his decision not to use magic.

He did break down once.

He asked Se'ir to take his magic away. It was the reason for everything wasn't it? The root of everything terrible in his life. So he asked even though it could be considered as using magic as the cat would have to use it on his behalf in order to get rid of his.

The cat had stared at him with curious eyes.

"**If you want it done, why don't you do it yourself?**"

That response had made him think. If he used magic once more, in order not to do so ever again, couldn't it be justified? If he took his punishments for doing so willingly then there might not be a need for them ever again. Or perhaps for only a little while, in order to even out everything he had done in the past.

But when he reached into himself with imaginary hands and took hold of his magic, the magic turned on him. It seemed to know what he was doing and it laughed as it slipped out of those 'hands' like water. Harry tried many times after that but nothing ever happened. His magic merely begged him to use it. He always refused. He wouldn't use his magic.

Hylaarr and Osset're noticed.

* * *

"Watch Harry." Osset're held a ball of violet light in his hand. Slowly tendrils began to reach out from the ball and then curl into vines. The vines sprouted flowers; one vine started to form itself into a tree. Soon enough the was a miniature forest was in the mage's hand. Harry's looked it over in wonder. There was so much detail. Birds flitted between trees and mushrooms decorated the ground. Even a snake crept out from the hollow of a tree. It's eyes followed Harry as he moved closer to see everything.

"Like it?" Osset're said it casually but his emotions were in Harry's throat slightly unsure. Harry nodded enthusiastically in order to reassure him.

Osset're smiled and relaxed. "Good. Now you try."

Harry's head snapped up to look at him so fast he winced at the twinge in his neck where the scar pulled.

'Me?' He mouthed in horror before shaking his head frantically. 'I can't.'

Osset're's eyes had caught his pain and he stared at the scar softly for a moment before his eyes snapped up to look at Harry. He rolled his eyes at Harry's protest.

"Of course you can. I've felt your magic, dearling." A quick hand ruffled Harry's hair before he could duck. He shivered at the contact. "It's more than powerful enough for such illusion."

Harry looked down and bit back a guilty sigh. His magic was powerful enough for illusion. He knew that quite well.

"Let him be, Osset're." Hylaarr touched Osset're's knee with a soft hand. "Finish the story."

Osset're sighed but started the story again as his magic began spinning a single figure into the forest scene.

"_And so Ror'issen, the Hornet Prince was free from the spell Gir'orril, the Cricket King had place on him._"

As Osset're told the story it played out front of him.

"_He now knew the value of working with others, of being a single part of a group, a pack. The wolves he had befriended accompanied him back to The Heart of the Forest and stood by him as he presented himself to his uncle._"

The lone elf in the forest was jumped on and made much of by a pack of dusky wolves. They danced and fought predators as Ror'issen and his pack made the long journey home.

"_Gir'orril sat upon his throne, a living tree, red in color, large enough that it's entire body created the temple there._"

The first sight of the Hear of the Forest took Harry breath away. The colors were so bright and vibrant they hurt his eyes. The old elven king Gir'orril looked exactly as he had always imagined a king would look like.

"_The old Elven King met Ror'issen's eyes with unfathomable emotion and looked into his mind and read his heart. When he returned to the world of the flesh Gir'orril was pleased and named his nephew his heir._"

When Harry's eyes fastened with Ror'issen's he could have sword he felt the old wise finger's slip into his mind.

"_He died a year later at peace and with great certainty that the young elf would make as good a king as his father had_."

When the king died, Harry had to look away.

Hylaarr brushed a hand through his hair and he jumped before he could stop himself. Hylaarr's hand paused and lingered before falling away. He shot a glance at Hylaarr before looking away. The vampire lord wasn't angry, as Harry's new skill told him but Harry still felt guilty. He hated . . . Actually he didn't know what he hated. It just was hard. Part of him wished he would just stop going to Crescent. The other part wished he never had to leave.

"Harry!" Osset're's voice was a bit too excited but Harry ignored that and turned to him with bright eyes. "I want _you_ to tell a story now."

He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him closer. Then he dropped Harry's hand, cupped his hands together, and formed a green ball of magic in his hands. Abruptly he dropped it in Harry's and sat back on his heels, grinning like a cartoon devil Dudley once had drawn on his homework.

Harry stared at the ball of Osset're's magic. It was so warm in his hands. A piece of the vampire mage, small enough to hold.

And he was tempted. He wanted to show him what he could do. But he couldn't.

He pushed the magic away, and scooted back on the bed. With a deep breath he willed himself back, willed himself to stop dreaming. He felt their dismay when he left but didn't let it stop him.

* * *

Oddly it was Dudley who made him first question his decision not to use magic.

Dudley came home for lunch. Harry had willed himself back and so woke up just before noon.

" You are stupid." Se'ir was on his chest again when he woke. The cat's duel eyes seemed to glow a bit. "**I have not finished healing you yet. Why did you return?**"

Harry wasn't sure but he had the feeling Se'ir knew about Crescent. He didn't know for sure and kept the charade going.

Harry shook his head. "**Sorry. I just woke up.**" The cat snorted and didn't respond. Se'ir had taken to ignoring him whenever Harry did something he didn't approve of. Se'ir didn't approve of a lot.

Dudley suddenly poked his head in and, upon seeing Harry moving, pushed the door open and walked in with out knocking. He shoved the door closed with his shoulder and made his way over to Harry's bed. Grunting he sat on the end and shoved one of his sandwiches off his plate and into Harry's hands.

Harry grabbed it to keep it from sliding off the bed. Carefully he took a bite before mouthing a thank you at Dudley. His cousin shrugged, his own mouth full of food. "There's chips, too"

Harry nodded and took another bit. The silence was awkward despite it being filled with the sounds of chewing. Finally Dudley paused, coughed, and broke it.

"That barmy old man. The one that was here, err, around November." Harry froze and Dudley relaxed. "Yeah. Well, he said you have magic." Dudley looked straight into Harry's eyes. "Do you?"

Harry didn't know what to do. He knew Petunia and Vernon knew about magic but never thought Dudley knew about it. The Dursleys wouldn't like that.

"I think that if you do, you are stupid." Dudley's voice was firm.

Why was everyone calling him stupid? Harry looked down, staring at the sandwich in his hands.

"If you have magic, why are you even here?" Anger laced his voice. "I mean, you could just go away." His voice softened to nearly a whisper. "If I were you, I would."

Why would anyone want to be him? Perhaps he was stupid. Dudley didn't want to be him. He said if he were him. If he were Harry he'd use his magic and disappear. Harry swallowed hard. Even despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to have it?

"**Why not?**" Se'ir whispered it in his mind. "**Haven't you been punished enough?**" The whisper cackled distantly inside his head. Yeah, had enough yet?

"Just think about it, all right Harry?" Dudley finished his sandwich and got up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and leaving without saying anymore.

Harry couldn't say why he reconsidered using magic. He didn't even really. He didn't start using it after that, but the option remained open in his mind.

He couldn't rid himself of the image of Dudley in his place.

If Dudley had been him he would have wanted Dudley to use his magic and leave.

* * *

It was a few weeks before they finally caught on that he couldn't leave the Golden Suite.

"Hylaarr Kiinn!" Osset're exclaimed in dismay. "That was the last cake!"

Hylaarr grinned smugly. "You should have gotten to it sooner."

Osset're scowled at his mate. "You don't even like chocolate cake!"

Hylaarr chew the small cake he had popped into his mouth all at once. "I like this cake."

Small flurries of red magic began to dance around the vampire mage as his anger grew. "I made these cakes for Harry!"

Harry turned his head away, eyes shining with suppressed laughter. He would have let it out, both the vampires knew that they amused him and tried to do so as often as possible, but it made them sad to see him laughing without making any noise. Harry didn't like it when they were sad. Osset're's sadness was like cold rain in his throat and Hylaarr's felt like something was lodged there and was hard to swallow around.

His eyes found the pad of paper and pen that always was close by and he grabbed it writing quickly before handing it to Hylaarr.

"More cake?" He glanced at Osset're. "I don't think Osset're should have more sugar today."

Osset're smiled sweetly at his mate and tipped his drink over Hylaarr's head. Hylaarr sputtered as the liquid ran down his face and pooled into his open mouth. His eyes turned to lock with his mate's and promised retribution. Osset're looked away to avoid them. Harry couldn't stop his laughter then and had to clamp his hand over his mouth in order to hide it.

Hylaarr caught his laughter though and he grew suddenly grave but Harry could feel his delight and knew he was about to make a joke.

Suddenly a cat jumped up into Harry's arms. It was Se'ir.

"**Se'ir? What-**"

But Se'ir interrupted him. "**No time. Attack comes. Hide.**"

Hylaarr stared at the cat for a moment and Harry realized that Se'ir was visible. And, due to the familiar look on the vampire Lord's face, he had heard Se'ir's warning. Hylaarr was suddenly in motion. He grabbed a hold of Harry, causing Se'ir to jump, and pushed him at Osset're. Harry wondered if he were the only one to see the cat disappear mid-leap.

"There's going to be an attack. Take Harry to Seren."

Osset're didn't even pause to digest that. He had Harry in his arms quicker than he could blink and was heading for the door. Harry suddenly began to squirm. He couldn't let Osset're take him out of the Golden Suite. It wouldn't work and they would find out. And he had a terrible headache the last time he'd tried.

"Hush Harry." Osset're whispered in his ear. "Hylaarr will be fine."

Harry mouthed a protest but wasn't in the right position for Osset're to see. Osset're was glowing by the time he reached the door. Protective magic illuminated him from within. Harry could feel it warming his very skin from inside.

And then Osset're was at the door. It opened before they reached it and Harry managed to slip out of the elven vampires arms. Osset're cursed beneath his breath, grabbed Harry's hand, and pulled him through the door.

Pain attacked Harry and he jerked back, escaping from Osset're's hand, and fell to the ground. He could feel himself falling apart.

Osset're stared at him with wide eyes and then Harry was pulled back, faster than he ever had been before. He sat up with a gasp as he nearly slammed into his body. Beside him Se'ir appeared out of thin air.

"**Well what are you doing here?**" Se'ir's voice was urgent. "**Go back! Help them.**"

Harry shook his head but it was so painful he moaned. He couldn't go back. He couldn't help even if he did. He couldn't use his magic. Unless, perhaps, it was life or death. Holding his head in his hand he tried to muster up the strength to push that out of his mind into Se'ir's but he couldn't.

"**Don't shake your head at me.**" Se'ir flicked his tail in irritation. "**I must heal you. You are going back**."

With a little push of his magic Se'ir sent him back to Crescent. Harry arrived in the middle of the chambers and found himself in the middle of a battle.

It was a battle unlike Harry had seen before. Shadows filled the room like a black cloud. Out of that cloud, things formed. Teeth, claws, eyes of every color appeared and attacked the two vampires who struggled to defend themselves. Limbs covered in spikes and spines and scales emerged from the cloud and swiped at Osset're and Hylaarr before slinking back and once again joining the shadows.

Osset're and Hylaarr were losing.

They had wounds already, something that was quite new to Harry, and were struggling to defend themselves against enemies that were endless. Magic poured off Osset're in waves and he had more success with getting the shadows to cease forming into monsters.

Hylaarr on the other hand, had abandoned his sword and was using magic too. Crude bolts of light shot out and hit their target spot on, dissolving each one back to shadows. But the shadows continued to grow more numerous. The situation was starting to look bad.

Harry was also insubstantial again.

He figured it out when Osset're suddenly dodged the snap of teeth that looked eerily wet and fell right through him. Harry bit his lip as Osset're stared at him, _through _him. The vampire mage looked so . . . horrified.

Suddenly a shadow formed into a man with a sword held in his hands and brought it down heading for Osset're's head.

Harry shouted out a warning but of course nothing came out. Osset're had been watching his mouth, though, and moved out of the way.

"Harry."

Hylaarr was suddenly there. He reached to grab Harry's arm but his hand passed right through. He stood staring at him with more shock than he had never seen him display before. Harry would have smiled had he not dreaded this moment for so long.

He didn't remain frozen for long though and, with a quick shake of his head, reached down to help up his mate with startling swiftness.

"Hylaarr, he's-"

"I know." Hylaarr's voice was grim. He motioned for Harry to get closer to Osset're and Harry obeyed quickly, unsure of the vampire Lord's emotions. Hylaarr met Osset're's eyes.

"They still might be able to hurt him."

Osset're nodded in agreement. His magic began to grow heavy around him and Harry couldn't tell what was about to happen.

Suddenly the shadows formed to release hundreds of wispy snakes. They hissed and spit and rushed at the two vampires, obviously set to attack. Harry frowned in confusion. The hisses sounded . . . understandable.

"Get thhe vampiresss!"

"Yess thhe vampiress."

"Bite thhem."

"De Raissss ssaid to kill thhem."

"Kill thhem thhen."

"Get thhem."

Harry sighed. More talking animals. And he couldn't even talk to these ones thanks to Se'ir. Oh. Se'ir.

With sudden inspiration he cleared his mind and pushed a single thought at them.

"**Don't bite thhe vampiress."**

They suddenly froze; a hundred pairs of eyes turned to him.

"Don't bite?"

"Whho?"

"Hhim. A ssssnake-sssspeaker."

"Ssssaid don't bite thhee vampiressss."

"Sssshould wee listen?"

"Do wee bite?"

There was a moment's pause before the snakes made a decision.

"Yess. Don't bite thhe vampiress."

"Don't bite thhe vampiresss."

"Don't bite thhe vampiresss."

And they melted back into the dark cloud and the cloud melted into shadows. The chatter of snakes was almost discernible as the shadows slipped away. The room was empty in a matter of moments.

Silence reigned before Harry turned to face the dominant lord. Hylaarr stood, blood dripping from a dozen different wounds, breathing hard. He looked like he had been in a battle. He also looked angry. At Harry.

"Harry." Harry winced at the tone in Hylaarr's voice. "I do believe you will be explaining some things."

Harry nodded quickly, his mind whirling to come up with something to tell them. Hylaarr motioned for him to follow them to the sitting area. He could say he didn't know how it happened. One day he was very sick and then he woke up here unexpectedly. Or perhaps he made a mistake with magic. Or perhaps-

Osset're looked very grim as he sat beside his mate. He looked better off then Hylaarr did but his white hair was red in places where his blood had coated it and it seemed to hurt him when he put weight on his left leg. His emotions were the worst though. It felt like he was mourning the death of someone. Harry perhaps? Were they going to send him away now? Or did they think him a spy and planned on killing him? Or perhaps-

"Harry." Osset're leaned forward, his hand on his knees. "Just tell me one thing first."

Harry nodded and waited bravely.

"Are you dead?"

Harry blinked, and his mouth dropped open in shock. Hylaarr and Osset're immediately relaxed. Harry could feel their relief. What? Oh. They had though he had died.

Hylaarr cleared his throat.

"Harry. Why didn't you mention you knew how to mind speak?" Hylaarr, of course, would focus on the one thing Harry hadn't thought up any excuse for.

"What? He knows how to mind speak?" Osset're looked at Harry. "You know how to mind speak?"

Harry grimaced a bit and nodded. He had been hoping this unable to talk properly thing would make them less inclined to interrogate him.

"Bahh." Osset're fell back into the divan and fairly growled in aggravation. "Does everyone know how to mind speak but me?"

Hylaarr sent him a sideways look but turned back to Harry.

"**Explain**." He said it aloud too but the emphasis was inside his head and Harry knew better than to doge anymore.

"**Se'ir taught me."**

"The cat?" Hylaarr asked. Osset're frowned.

"What cat?"

Hylaarr sighed. "The cat that warned us of the attack."

"A cat warned us of the attack?"

Hylaarr growled. "Yes Osset're."

"But how? He mind spoke Harry? How does Harry know mind speech anyway?" The elven vampire had to take a deep breath after that flurry of questions.

Hylaarr sighed again. "Se'ir taught him."

"Who?"

"The cat."

"No who's Se'ir?"

" Se'ir is the cat who taught Harry mind speech _and_ warned us of the attack."

Osset're looked at him sceptically. "_I _never saw a cat."

" Odd as I did." Hylaarr glared at his mate. "Now will you please shut it so I can question the boy?"

Osset're made a face and crossed his arms, turning his head away. "Stupid vampires and their bloody mind speech." He muttered under his breath in elven.

Hylaarr turned back to Harry with an eyebrow raised. Harry thought it a good idea to continue his explanation.

"**Se'ir taught me how to mind speak. Yes he's a cat. He's magical** ."

Hylaarr smirked. "So I gathered." He suddenly softened. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded his head in confusion. "**Yes**."

Hylaarr nodded once before leaning forward. "Could you tell me how you came to be . . ."

"A ghost." Osset're filled in helpfully but still glared at Hylaarr when his mate looked at him.

Harry suppressed a wince. "**I don't know**." He looked down to hide his eyes. "**It happens when I sleep sometimes. When I come here.**"

Hylaarr stared at Harry for a long moment. Long enough for Osset're to get impatient and lean over to his mate. "What did he say?"

Hylaarr ignored him and focused on Harry.

"Harry. We haven't noticed you like that here."

Harry nodded and began his lie hesitantly. "**I sometimes come here and you can't see me and I can touch things but most just go through me.** **I happened after I came here that time, round October. I can't leave the – your chambers.**"

Hylaarr questioned him further but believed him. Harry hadn't wanted to give him so much information but didn't want them to know that he'd been come here in his dreams for years. That probably wouldn't go over too well. After all that might be taken suspiciously by the vampire lord. Harry didn't want to lose any of the vampire's affections.

Perhaps he shouldn't have given so much information. When he woke up he berated himself for it wishing he could take it back.

* * *

August

30th

Evening.

He was visible and solid the next time he went back to Crescent. Hylaarr and Osset're were pleased about it and didn't make much of Harry being unable to leave the chambers. They were even more attentive, and were quick to drop what they had been doing when he showed up. He was extremely happy that last week of summer. Of course it fell apart quite easily.

Harry knew life wouldn't be so nice when he had to stop dreaming. And so he told lie after lie in order to make them like him. Harry was very good at telling lies and he was careful not to let anything slip. But Harry had grown to comfortable around them and began to make mistakes.

The biggest mistake was letting on he knew Nin.

Vernon had been tired when he got home from work. He hardly spent anytime with Harry before he went downstairs, plopped himself into his chair, turned on the tellie, and waited for dinner. When dinner came Dudley didn't pester Harry with any thought provoking conversation, he just handed him a plate and retreated to his room, eyes only once lingering on the new black eye Harry was sporting. Se'ir had healed Harry well and taken off to visit a 'friend' he said he'd made.

And so Harry was once again in his own company and relatively whole.

All too pleased with the way life was going he decided to visit Crescent. It was boring in Dudley's second bedroom anyway and he wouldn't have to use much magic, just enough to give him a push. The whisper said nothing about his plans, which in itself was a reprieve, and soon Harry was opening his eyes to the familiar chambers of Hylaarr Kiinn and Osset're Li'essha Kiinn.

Feeling rather elated, Harry crept towards the bed, where the curtains were pulled around it and soft conversation could be heard from within.

"Is it wrong that I hope he's unhappy with them?" Osset're sighed.

"Yes." Hylaarr sounded sleepy.

Osset're sighed again. "I am serious Hylaarr. We asked him to live with us first. It seems unfair to me that they get him."

Harry bit his lip. Osset're was . . . melancholy. Harry didn't like it. Osset're should always be happy. And it was about him. Why did he make everyone around him unhappy?

"Life is unfair, Osset're." Hylaarr yawned.

"I don't like them. His relatives I mean. I think he'd be much better off with us."

"Osset're." Hylaarr sounded annoyed. "He's human, has living relatives, and seems happy. Let it go."

Harry sighed. They really should let it go. Thank the little gods, as Osset're would say, for Dominants. Hylaarr yawned before Osset're started again.

"Hylaarr?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you thought about, you know, finding him?"

There was silence for a moment. Harry held his breathe. He didn't know what he wanted Hylaarr to say though.

"Osset're we are not spying on Harry."

Harry let his breath out unsure if he felt relieved or disappointed.

"He wouldn't have to know. I could make us invisible and we'd, you know, observe. Just to make sure he's happy."

"No."

"Where do you think he lives?"

"Osset're."

" Think about it. He's English by his accent and he's close enough to London to get there easily. We're in Abria**.** Harry is very powerful but he's young and probably wouldn't be able to shadow walk or whatever he does much farther then that. All we'd have to do is go to London and cast few spells . . ."

Hylaarr growled to get his mate's attention. "Osset're! Harry is an abused child."

Dead silence. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. They thought he was abused. How could they? He had been so careful.

"He does not trust us, hence his magic only bringing him here in spirit. He is very fragile. Any push from us that he is not ready for could break him." Hylaarr said it very quietly and Harry had to strain to hear.

"Hylaarr." Osset're breathed. "Do you think . . . It it possible he's still being abused?"

Utter silence. Harry couldn't even feel emotions from either vampire.

"Yes."

Harry was up in an instant. This had been a mistake. He should have never come back here. He was leaving and he was not coming back. They were far too close to finding out about the Dursleys. Harry was halfway to the bench before he was stopped.

"Harry."

Harry turned to face Osset're and Hylaarr. For the first time he couldn't hide what he felt. He felt anger. And betrayal. And fear.

"**I am **_**not**_** abused.**" There might have been too many emotions transferred in the mind speech but Harry didn't notice.

"Harry." Osset're took a step forward but stopped when Harry took a step back.

"**Don't come near me." **He hissed. He could feel his magic boiling and crawling on his skin.

"Harry." Hylaarr deliberately walked closer to him. Harry didn't care.

"**Neither of you understand!** " He could feel his thoughts getting out of control. "**They are punishments. I'm . . . horrid! I have magic, and I shouldn't. I'm a murderer! My parents are dead because of me. The Dursleys **_**hate**_** me. I can feel their hate and they're my **_**family.**_** If they hate me shouldn't everyone else? The punishments are **_**necessary**_**. I **_**need**_** them."**

He was panting by the time he was through and his cheeks were wet.

"Harry." Hylaarr's voice was very gentle. "Have you ever considered you aren't human?"

Harry breathed out a harsh breath. It was so quiet in the room.

"Harry look around you." Osset're was closer than he had been before. "Your magic is not human magic."

Harry blinked and looked down. His hands were clenched into fists. Magic; bright green and gold and blue was all around him. It rose off him in a mist of light. It danced in the air before him. He could feel himself full of it.

He gulped back dismay. He had lost control of his emotions and the magic had escaped.

It seemed to laugh at its freedom. It happily attacked the spell the only spell it could see. The once Se'ir had put on his voice snapped and the magic seemed to scream in delight.

"I'm a freak." He whispered. He hadn't believe it before. He had magic, yes, but a secret part of him had hoped it really was meant for him. That perhaps he just wasn't supposed to have so much. But it was so clear now. He was human and his magic wasn't. It was stolen magic. And he deserved every punishment he have ever received.

"No." The elven vampire whispered it softly. "You are a beautiful child. Wondrous. Magical. But not human."

That was wrong. They hadn't seen the scars; he wasn't beautiful. Nor wondrous. Magical yes but unnaturally magical. And he _was_ human. What else could he be?

"Harry." Hylaarr was right before him. "A human child could never speak Nin."

Harry stared at him. Nin?

"Vampires speak a language called Nin. It is something we just know whether we are Borne or Embraced. We have to learn everything else but Nin is a part of our soul. Its in our blood." He held tightly to Harry's shoulders. "We've been speaking Nin the entire time you've been here. The only way you could have understood what we said is if you knew it."

Osset're smiled at him gently. "You must be partly vampire at the very least, Harry."

Harry couldn't breath. If that were true-

It couldn't be possible. It what Hylaarr said were true, If Harry really was part vampire, than the Dursleys-

"It's not- I-" Harry closed his eyes and started again.

"I lied. I've been coming here since I can remember." He looked up and met the Dominant's eyes. "I come here in my dreams. You've never seen me. I- I've been watching you both forever. I know everything about you. I've even learned some elven. I've read books on your shelf. I've eaten your food. I've watched you feed. I've watched you sleep. I've loved you for so long . . ." He took a shaky breath and looked down. "I lied- I lie about everything." They should be so mad. "I must have learned Nin when I was little."

Hylaarr reached out a hand and pulled Harry's chin up. He smiled very softly. "No one can learn Nin, Harry."

Harry stared at him.

Osset're spoke up. "Harry." Harry looked into his violet eyes unsure of what he expected him to say. Osset're bit his lip. "You belong here, Harry, with us. Your aunt and uncle-"

Harry blinked. The Dursleys. Oh. Yes. Always back to the Dursleys. He suddenly remembered his last promise to Petunia. He promised never to use magic. He looked down at his hands. Magic still danced and gloried in it's freedom. Harry couldn't help it. He started trembling. He wasn't supposed to used magic.

You're also not supposed to let anyone know about the punishments. The whisper hissed at him chidingly. Didn't the Dursleys tell you again and again what others would think? What lies others would tell you to get you to think as they did? Do you really believe them?

Harry didn't know. But he didn't want to and that was good enough for him.

Old habits had him jerking himself from Hylaarr's grasp. Protecting the Dursleys was automatic. Of course they weren't right. The Dursleys were. They always had been.

Harry shook his head. He felt floaty. For once it actually felt like he was dreaming. And he was grateful. He had forgotten that this was just a dream. It had become a nightmare but it was still a dream. It wasn't real.

"You're not real." He whispered it. "This is just a dream. It always has been."

Osset're opened his mouth to protest but Hylaarr stopped him with a look before turning to look at Harry. Duel eyes, one silver one black, met Harry's.

"If you believe that then why don't you wake up Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open in shock. Hylaarr wanted him to leave? He looked at Osset're. The vampire mage for once was still and silent. He simply looked at Harry with hurt in his eyes. He looked away.

Harry asked his magic to take him back. It was easy with it so accessible. He wouldn't stay where he wasn't wanted. He wouldn't stay where life was a dream and magic existed. Where people told him he was a vampire. Where people told him he was supposed to have magic. They had to be lying. Any other explanation was abhorrent.

The whisper snickered at him. And who exactly is the liar here, Harry.

Harry ignored it. He had made up his mind. He wouldn't ever return. This time he meant it.

**Next chapter I've plans for a bit of explanation for this last scene. I know it was rather odd. And Remus again. And Dudley.**

**Oh and I had an idea for the chapter, way far ahead, when Harry goes to Hogwarts. The scene is Dumbledore barges in on Severus and announced Harry Potter is a Vampire. How do you think Severus should react?**

**Oh and to answer this question again, it should be pretty clear, SEVERUS SNAPE is Harry's Dominant. I love Severus Snape. I only read the Harry Potter books cause of him. He's the best character in it. I HATE JKR for killing him off and I'm still in denial about the last book. I only read Harry Potter fanfiction cause of him and I'm only writing this story so I can create a character in Harry thats good enough for him. **

**Kay? **

**Good. Later Lovelies. **

**Fitful **


	13. Chapter 13

**So I thought I'd let you all in on my story plot. **

**I know it seems to be winding up to the end of the story but it will only be the end of Part 1. I wouldn't have introduced all these characters and wonderful plots without a little foresight. I will be needing them later. From Seren to Kian to Dudley to Se'ir. Harry will be going to Hogwarts. In fact, as astonishing as it might seem, all that I've written so far is character development. **

**As in: The Beginning. There are about two more chapters left of Part 1? Then chapter 16 I assume will start Part 2. Don't ask me how many parts there will be as I don't know.**

**So please get off my tail about how miserable I've made him. I've yet to even start. Just wait until the scene I've been plotting since I wrote the first chapter. **

**I've taken some things word for word from a website. Please don't sue. I'm just a fanfiction writer.**

Chapter Thirteen.

August 30st

Morning.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Truth is beautiful, without doubt, but so are lies." Kiinn agreed with him to some extent. Lies were beautiful. If you had the imagination you could create the prettiest picture and spin it into a good story. Beauty attracted people as nearly every race would attest. People would believe much that was wrapped up in sunlight and sweetness.

But the truth is rarely beautiful. It's the reason people tell lies. The truth is often ugly and painful. Lies covered up the ugliness and ignored the fangs that would strike the moment acknowledged. Kiinn believed if everyone were honest most would be ugly and miserable. The rest would be dead.

His father was an ugly miserable man. Not his adopted fathers; but his biological one. Elan Merat Crowe was a Lord of a small clan that kept to itself and never grew very large. It died off when Kiinn was a child and Hylaarr knew very little of what became of its members.

Lord Crowe was a hard man. He ruled with an iron fist and didn't suffer the foolish, incompetent, or stupid. He didn't suffer the weak either. Everyone in his clan was strong. Everyone followed his orders and dared not disobey. He killed for the least infraction. Everyone in his clan was a warrior. He was forced to be in constant conflict with someone at any given time in order to control them.

Kiinn first killed someone when he was four.

When Kiinn was six Lord Elan took him to the site of his first victory. It was a small field covered in flowers green grass. The sun had been shining very brilliantly and there had been little breeze. To this day Kiinn could close his eyes and see the scene exactly as it had been. It had been beautiful.

"That is not beauty, boy." His father had stared at the field with haunted eyes. "Its a lie. Beneath the grass and English daises lies the army of Lord Merat of the Isis clan. He was weak, although his magic was strong. Now he his dead as are his followers. Vampires, each a thousand years old, lie here. Their bones have crumbled to dust and now feed the beauty that lives."

With a wave of his Will he had plucked the nearest daisy. With steady hands he had handed it to Kiinn who took it gently. The flower looked quite harmless. It was small and pink. An innocent wild flower. With a snap of his Will Lord Elan turned it to ashes.

"Beauty is fleeting. Remember that, boy! Do you see the sun? It will set. Think the day is perfect boy? Think again. Without any breeze an enemy could creep up on us and kill us before we could smell him. Do you like the view before you?" He had gripped his hand on his walking stick until his knuckles were white. "I see nothing but the dead. They lie before me, mountains of bodies swimming in pools of blood."

His father had abruptly left him there, drifting away into the shadows. Kiinn hadn't known how to shadow walk yet.

He had heard Lord Elan's words but had disagreed. Death and life were a circle. The dead fed the living until the living died. And the day was beautiful. The night was beautiful as well. He hadn't thought it a lie at all. Just history.

But his father's word stuck in his head throughout his life. They had sparked his studied into the old ways. How could a man be weak when his magic was strong? They made him a suspicious man. If his father had been wrong who else was? If his father had been right everyone was a liar.

Everyone was a liar but Kiinn believe the world was better off for it. Lies were beautiful. The truth wasn't. There were some exceptions to the rule but for the most part that held true throughout his life.

Mark Twain said, "A man's private though can never be a lie; what he thinks, is to him the truth, always." Kiinn also agreed with that to some extent. It was very true but it forgot to include the truth that men lie to themselves. Or a man might be able to see both sides of an argument and be unable to make up his mind.

On the subject of Harry Kiinn thought that he believed a lot of what he thought of as truth but not everything. It was hard to know for sure. Kiinn wouldn't intrude on the boy's thoughts although he could. Despite that courtesy he knew a lot of what Harry thought by observation.

The boy lied a lot.

He claimed his parents died years ago; killed by vampires, yet he had vampire lineage. Admittedly that one might be true, as other some vampires didn't approve of half bloods, and might have targeted his family out of prejudice but he didn't act like a half blood vampire or even one raised by half blood vampires. He didn't even act like the Mi. The Mortal Immoral.

He claimed to hate vampires which he obviously didn't. He spun a tale about an orphanage which soon turned to a runaway on the streets to living with his aunt and uncle who miraculously discover him and take him home. And the explanations for the various, serious, wounds he came to Crescent bearing all fell flat.

"A liar should have a good memory," said Quintilian. Harry had a good one but it wasn't exceptional. He made mistakes.

The subject of Harry's magic was one that Kiinn had discussed with his mate at length. Harry seemed to hate his magic. Osset're's attempt to teach Harry illusion confirmed it. Harry loved magic when Osset're did it but when the subject of doing it himself came up he faltered and made excuses. He did use him magic to bring him here, whether it was Drifting, Shadow Walking or what have you but Kiinn had begun to suspect it was involuntary. Actually Osset're suspected and told Kiinn about it.

But it was the ghost of Harry that frightened Kiinn. When Osset're had joined him fighting against the daemons, whispering that Harry had gone back, he had been relieved. Without his mate he hadn't been sure he could have held off against such an attack. When he saw the boy standing in the middle of a battle he had used a curse that he dearly hoped Osset're would never ask to be translated. And when his hand passed right through the boy; he had been so surprised he hadn't let himself react.

The boy later confessed that he only came to Crescent in spirit. That had set Kiinn's mind to work overtime. A dozen suspicions had been thought up and discarded. It always came back to how powerful the boy was. How could a child be over looked and let to suffer what he had with no one the wiser. The boy left body on a regular basis and no one noticed? That was impossible. Someone had to know.

That sparked a million different theories.

"Perhaps his parents are alive?" Osset're had mused aloud. "Perhaps they've been hiding him all these years from any magical community in some far away realm and he's been using Crescent as an escape? Perhaps he has a twin and his twin is some sort of Saviour and he's been shunted off to the side although he's the real Saviour! Or perhaps he's a murderer. He lost control of his magic, perhaps as a young child, killed someone and they threw him in prison."

Kiinn had tried to shut out his mate's voice but once the elven vampire started it was hard to get him to stop.

"Do you think he's a prince or a king? Perhaps he's from the future. Or he lives in the future now and when he comes back he is a ghost. Or do you think he's from the past? Is his name really Harry? Perhaps he was kidnapped from his parents and now lives with a dark sorcerer who keeps him locked up in the basement." Osset're began to get into his story his hands started to wave wildly. "Perhaps the dark sorcerer is jealous of his power and has been trying to steal it away all these years but hasn't managed it yet as Harry is so powerful!" Osset're huffed in frustration and started muttering to himself. "Never mind. Thats a crap theory. How would you explain the vampire lineage?"

Kiinn hadn't been able to do anything but listen to his mate. One thing his mate had said sparked a theory. Using Crescent as an escape sounded very plausible. Especially if the boy did it unconsciously. And about the vampire lineage. Perhaps his guardians hated vampires? That would explain the abuse. And why he came to Crescent.

Suddenly Osset're had gasped. Kiinn's head has snapped up in an instant but there was nothing there. He turned to his mate in annoyance but Osset're was frozen in place with a brilliant look on his face.

"If Harry has vampire somewhere in his lineage wouldn't he speak Nin?"

That remark had sparked Kiinn's plot to uncover all of Harry's lies.

It wasn't hard to find out he spoke Nin. An offhand comment to Osset're that was designed to make Harry laugh was all it took. He made sure to hide it inside of a normal conversation. Harry laughed right on cue. He never even noticed. His first mistake.

Yesterday Kiinn and Osset're plotted more.

"He still flinches, Hylaarr."

Kiinn had frowned but didn't answer. His thoughts had been speeding though his mind faster than he could keep up and he had been worried if he stopped processing them he'd miss the one idea that would work.

"I'm tired of his lies. Hylaarr." Damn there went the thought he'd been trying to grab. " Hylaarr!"

Kiinn turned to his mate and raised his eyebrow in annoyance. "What do you propose?"

Osset're flushed at the gentle rebuke and took his time in answering. Kiinn had waited patiently. Osset're did his best plotting when he took his time. Finally his mate nodded and began.

"The truth is painful. Its ugly and it hurts to admit," His violet eyes tared at nothing and not even his magic was visible. "But sometimes its necessary." His mate smelled of determination and worry. Osset're took a deep breath. "I think we need to tell him the truth."

Kiinn had thought about it a moment before nodding his approval. The idea grew on him as they started planning. The boy lied to himself much to much. He no doubt told so many lies he was starting to believe them. Beautiful lies created as self defense.

It was time they revealed the truth, both to Harry and to themselves.

Harry had developed a routine. He came each evening just after dinner. They would spend it directly in front of the windows and watch the summer sunset in silence as it sunk below the Grampian Mountain range. Harry was fond of the mountains and loved the time they spent together everyday.

Instead of waiting for him by the windows Kiinn had positioned them on their bed with the curtains drawn. Long before Harry was set to arrive they started. Osset're could talk for hours, especially about Harry. Luckily he didn't have to Harry was early.

"Is it wrong that I hope he's unhappy with them?" Osset're sighed.

"Yes." Kiinn forced himself to show little emotion. Osset're was much better at acting. Kiinn heard when Harry came it and he was . . . restless.

Osset're sighed again. "I am serious Hylaarr. We asked him to live with us first. It seems unfair to me that they get him."

"Life is unfair, Osset're." Hylaarr yawned and listened for Harry's breath.

"I don't like them. His relatives I mean. I think he'd be much better off with us."

Kiinn glared at his mate. "Osset're." Of course Osset're would use every moment he could to announce his desires. Kiinn just hoped it didn't scare the boy off. "He's human, has living relatives, and seems happy. Let it go."

Harry sighed and Kiinn had to hold his breath to keep himself from reacting. He let it out in a yawn.

"Hylaarr?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you thought about, you know, finding him?"

Kiinn looked at Osset're. His mate was serious. Kiinn smiled at his mate letting him know he didn't mean his next words.

"Osset're we are not spying on Harry."

Osset're bit his lip to keep himself from bursting at Harry's sigh of disappointment. Kiinn sniffed the air. _Yes_ it was disappointment.

"He wouldn't have to know. I could make us invisible and we'd, you know, observe. Just to make sure he's happy."

"No." Kiinn leaned over and kissed his mate softly.

"Where do you think he lives?"

"Osset're." Another kiss.

"Think about it. He's English by his accent and he's close enough to London to get there easily. We're in Abria**.** Harry is very powerful but he's young and probably wouldn't be able to shadow walk or whatever he does much farther then that. All we'd have to do is go to London and cast few spells . . ."

Hylaarr growled to get his mate's attention. "Osset're!" This was it. "Harry is an abused child."

Dead silence. If Kiinn didn't know the boy was there he would have sworn he wasn't.

"He does not trust us, hence his magic only bringing him here in spirit. He is very fragile. Any push from us that he is not ready for could break him." Hylaarr said it very quietly and squeezed his mate's fingers to show he was serious.

"Hylaarr." Osset're breathed. "Do you think . . . It it possible he's still being abused?"

Utter silence. There was still not a sound from the boy. There was no turning back though. It was now or never. Kiinn had the sneaking suspicion that Harry wouldn't voluntarily come back to Crescent if left to himself.

"Yes."

The boy was across the room in an instant and Kiinn scrambled to chase after him with his mate not far behind. Harry was halfway to the bench before he was stopped by Kiinn's dominant command.

"Harry."

Harry turned to face Osset're and Hylaarr. For the first time the boy couldn't hide what he felt. It was written on his face. He felt anger, and betrayal, and fear. He feared the truth. For the first time it was confirmed. Harry's truth was ugly.

"**I am **_**not**_** abused.**" So much pain came with the mindspeach but Kiinn was looking for something. And he found it. The boy knew he was lying. Beneath it all, he knew.

"Harry." Osset're took a step forward and Kiinn used his Will to physically stop his mate.

"**Don't come near me." **The boy hissed like a vampire. His magic wasn't a vampire's Will though and it was soon visible. It overflowed and spilled out Harry's hands. It was like liquid fire and it soon licked every inch of the boy's skin as if it would burn it off.

"Harry." Kiinn deliberately walked closer to him.

"**Neither of you understand!** " The boy was out of control. His magic had made up for his lack of voice and given him one. Even Osset're, who was pathetically mute to mindspeech heard him. "**They are _Punishments_. I'm . . . horrid! I have magic, and I shouldn't. I'm a murderer! My parents are dead because of me. The Dursleys **_**hate**_** me. I can feel their hate and they're my **_**family.**_** If they hate me shouldn't everyone else? The Punishments are **_**necessary**_**. I **_**need**_** them."**

He was panting by the time he was through and his cheeks were wet.

A part of him was rather put out; though very distantly as the situation wasn't the place to indulge in petty feelings. Osset're had been right about more than a few things. He would never let Kiinn forget it too.

"Harry." Kiinn kept his voice very gentle. Poor submissive childe. "Have you ever considered you aren't human?"

Harry breathed out a harsh breath into the silence of the room.

"Harry look around you." Osset're had broken free of Kiinn's Will and crept closer. "Your magic is not human magic."

The boy blinked and looked down. His hands were clenched into tight little fists. He stared at his magic as if he had never seen it before. Never seen it so free.

But it was free. Harry was submissive. He wasn't human. He had lost control and this was the result. He was desperate to hang on to the Punishments that were actually abuse because he had no other choice. He did need them. In his very core he was a submissive creature that needed the punishments to be sane. Such were the ways the ancients had followed, the way Kiinn and Crescent followed.

But the boy did _not_ need to be abused.

This was why mistreated a submissive was met with death in his clan. This was why Kiinn wanted the entire vampire race to follow the Ancient Ways. This submissive, who was so out of control, could destroy all of Crescent if he chose to. He had enough pain and anger to do it. If Kiinn had been in his place he might have. Osset're had done something similar once.

"I'm a freak." The boy had regained his voice and it was weak from disuse.

"No." Osset're said softly. "You are a beautiful child. Wondrous. Magical. But not human."

Kiinn found himself in front of the boy without memory of getting there. Every instinct screamed at him to take this submissive childe, this hurt child, and make all the pain go away. It tore him up that he couldn't to that. He had to finish what he started.

"Harry." Kiinn forced his tone into one of utter certainty. "A human child could never speak Nin."

The boy stared at him

"Vampires speak a language called Nin. It is something we just know whether we are Borne or Embraced. We have to learn everything else but Nin is a part of our soul. Its in our blood." He managed to get a good grip on Harry's shoulder's. "We've been speaking Nin the entire time you've been here. The only way you could have understood what we said is if you knew it."

"You must be partly vampire at the very least, Harry." Osset're added.

"It's not- I-" Harry closed his eyes and started again.

"I lied. I've been coming here since I can remember." He looked up and met Kiinn's eyes with his own green ones.

"I come here in my dreams. You've never seen me. I- I've been watching you both forever. I know everything about you. I've even learned some elven. I've read books on your shelf. I've eaten your food. I've watched you feed. I've watched you sleep. I've loved you for so long . . ." He took a shaky breath and looked down. "I lied- I lie about everything." Kiinn could barely breath though his joy. This childe loved him. "I must have learned Nin when I was little."

Kiinn couldn't damper all the emotions that speech invoked. The child had been with them all along. He loved them. That was all he needed to know. Kiinn reached out a hand with one hand and pulled Harry's chin up. He smiled very softly. "No one can learn Nin, Harry."

Osset're was eager to speak too, although he knew his place as submissive and kept back. "Harry." Osset're's emotions were so present it made controlling his own harder. "You belong here, Harry, with us. Your aunt and uncle-"

Perfection. Osset're had brought up the boy's aunt and uncle. It had been a gamble but paid off nicely. They now knew the boy's relatives were the ones who abused him.

He would kill them.

The boy shook off his hand and back up, shaking his head in denial.

"You're not real." He whispered it. "This is just a dream. It always has been."

Osset're opened his mouth to protest but Hylaarr stopped him with a look before turning to look at the boy. His met Harry's eyes with determination. He made sure no emotion was there.

"If you believe that then why don't you wake up Harry?"

The boy's mouth fell open. Kiinn ignored the boy's pain, and stepped back positioning himself close enough to stop his mate should the elven vampire break. The boy looked at Osset're. For once his mate was still and silent. Finally the boy looked away.

Then Harry was gone. Osset're didn't last beyond that. He collapsed and Kiinn was forced to tend to his mate instead of dwell on the boy. It was nearly impossible to get his mate to bed so he force fed him a potion and held him down until it took.

It was morning now. It was very early and the sun was just rising. The potion would be wearing off soon. Soon they would be gone.

Damn how ugly the truth was. They were going to get their son.

* * *

August 30th.

Evening.

The summer was horrid. Harry was fine. In fact he was completely fine. The only evidence of having his throat slit was a scar that really wasn't very visible as Harry always looked down and it didn't show. Dudley was pissed off because of it.

He had hoped there would be evidence. That a neighbor would see and tell someone. That he might pluck up the courage and call the police. He had hoped even more that Professor Peter would stop by and . . . well he wasn't sure. If the professor wasn't barmy he might actually be a werewolf and then what would happen to Dudley's parent? If he wasn't how could he possibly convince Harry to go with him?

And Dudley had come to the conclusion that Harry would have to go. He was the source of his parents behavior. He was the one they abused and the one they hated. Dudley didn't know why. But he knew Harry would have to go. Professor Peter wanted it that way. Why else would he hang out with Dudley all year?

Dudley would have to stay. His parents needed him. If he left too they would be all alone and they might become . . . more mad then they already were. They might follow Professor Peter and despite what he said Dudley doubted the man could defend Harry by himself. He just wasn't big enough. So Dudley would have to stay.

It went unsaid that he didn't want to.

Dudley wasn't as oblivious as usual over the summer. In fact he might have noticed too much. For one thing he noticed his dad would visit Harry once a day and beat him up. He also noticed they refused to feed him or let him out of Dudley's second bedroom. Dudley noticed too that they didn't want him to know and refused to do anything to Harry when he was in the house.

If he hadn't been such a coward he wouldn't have left at all that summer.

But, after a lot of thought, Dudley found he hated them. He loved them, they were his parents after all, but he hated them and he didn't know how to stop. He was afraid if they talked to him and tried to justify what they did then he'd never be able to stop. He was afraid if he talked to them he'd end up screaming and never be able to stop. So he didn't. He didn't say anything to them and they were angry and took it out on Harry.

If Dudley hadn't been such a coward he would have said something to his parents even if it were all lies.

Dudley spent the summer at the library. He convinced Piers that he had almost failed school and if he didn't catch up his parents were going to home school him. Piers convinced his mum to take them and they both spent the summer at the Library. He didn't know why he hid it from his parents. He just did.

Books weren't something Dudley liked. In fact he hated books. The letters were confusing and Dudley still didn't read very well. He was embarrassed because of it and didn't tell his parents. They didn't believe the his teachers when they told them. He'd been doing much better with Professor Peter but now there was no Professor Peter and he was struggling. He kept on though. He was looking for something in particular.

He wanted a phone number.

Dudley knew only three telephone numbers. The one to dial for home, the one to dial for Piers, and the one to dial in case of emergency. Other than that he was clueless. If he had had any foresight he would have gotten Professor Peter's number. It would have been perfect too as Professor Peter would know what he was talking about and even if he didn't like Dudley anymore he would do anything for Harry.

But he didn't so he was looking for the number to call Mrs. Mooney. He wasn't sure he'd get Mrs. Mooney exactly, and wasn't' sure he wanted to as she didn't do much the last time she was at his house, but he hoped to get someone who was just like her.

The trouble was he didn't know what she was called, or where she worked, or how to find the number if he did know without asking the librarian. He didn't want to ask the librarian as the last time he'd asked one for something, he believed it was a book on cooking, she'd rang home and told his parent. That was the last thing he wanted. In fact it would be the worst thing that could happen.

He had a second option. If he could find a number for Mrs. Mooney perhaps he could find an address for the barmy old man and get him to come back. It might be scary to talk to someone who could do magic but if he explained that Harry just couldn't stay anymore, that he made Dudley's parents mad, perhaps he would take Harry away.

But he hadn't a clue how to start there and the librarian was no help. When he asked about magic people he was sent to the fiction section. That wasn't any help at all. The second time she sent him to the fantasy section. That help a bit more until Dudley realized that everything wasn't real. The third time he asked her she sent him to the baby section. Where there were books with pictures. She gave him one with a dragon on it.

He did have a third option. There was a police man ( at least Dudley thought he was a police man; he wore a uniform) who visited the librarian once a week. He brought her flowers and made her blush. She always shooed him off saying he should be working. Dudley had almost gone up to him so many times.

He didn't because he _did _love his parent. He didn't want them to go to jail. Did mums even go to jail? He wasn't sure if mum's were allowed there but didn't want to take the chance. After all what would happen to him once they were in jail? And what would happen to Harry? Dudley had a crazy thought that Harry might break them out and then get thrown in there himself but thought he remembered Professor Peter telling him adults went to jail and not children.

Dudley got better at reading. He read books on children. One told how babies were made. That one had nearly made him sick but Piers had just laughed and made rude comments that Dudley didn't understand. He read one book that talked about good parenting. It only confirmed what Professor Peter had told him. His parents weren't doing a very good job. And that was only about Dudley. He couldn't find anything that mentioned what they did to Harry.

Dudley finally resorted to trying to get Harry to do something. He was careful at first but then he finally openly said if Harry didn't do something he would. Harry never caught on though. His parent had Harry so brainwashed he doubted Harry would do anything without their permission.

He'd been wrong. Harry had a cat.

The Dursleys didn't like animals. His mum thought they were dirty and disgusting and refused to have anything to do with them. His dad didn't like the work it took to keep up with one. Dudley had a puppy once. Its name had been Piddles. It had only been there a week before it mysteriously disappeared. Mum said it ran away but Dudley didn't believe her.

Dudley hear the cat meow once in the middle of the night. He had crept to the door that adjoined their room, err his room and his second bedroom, and had heard it purring. He didn't ever see it though. The only way he knew it was around was because Harry couldn't make any noise anymore. He didn't even make any sounds chewing.

He didn't see the cat until it woke him up.

"Get up little fat boy."

Dudley opened his eyes to see a strangely colored cat glaring at him. A paw batting his nose woke him up further and he couldn't help his small scream.

"Be silent or I will silence you as I did Harry." Dudley's mouth snapped shut. He looked the cat in shock. "Now listen to me little fat boy. Harry is a very important person. He is a Wizard. He has magic. And he is being abused by your horrid parents." The cat spoke English terribly but it was passable and could be excused as he was a cat. More so Dudley was soon caught by what he said.

"I know." He whispered it very carefully. "But I don't know what to do. Harry won't do anything."

The cat's tail flicked once and Dudley was startled to see it so short. Did cat's tails come like that? Another bat to his nose brought his eyes back to the cat's mismatched ones.

"Pay attention." The cat seemed to frown at him. "Can't you think of anything to do?"

Dudley started to shake his head but stopped. If the cat was magical perhaps he could help. "I need a phone number." He whispered softly. The cat stared at him

"Do I look like a directory?" Dudley shook his head. "What we need is someone who can save him, despite his reluctance to be saved." The cat's eyes were a different color and looked funny so close up.

Dudley shook his head to get rid of bizarre thoughts and bit his lip. There was always Professor Peter. Perhaps. . .

"Would a werewolf work?" He whispered cautiously.

The cat stared at him in surprise. "_You_ know a werewolf?"

"Err sorta. I'm not sure he is one but he cares about Harry and I would have told him before but I don't know where he lives and-" The cat hit him on the nose again.

"Be silent little fat boy." The cat twitched its whiskers, then wrinkled it's nose. Then it sat down and began washing it's ears. Dudley wasn't amused. If the talking cat could help Harry then he really needed to know now.

"Right." Suddenly the cat was done and looking at Dudley with his odd eyes. " If I take you to this werewolf you find your way back? Yes?" Dudley nodded quickly. "Good." The cat suddenly jumped on him and before Dudley could say anything and his bedroom disappeared.

"Hold on." Was all the cat said. And then it was dark and cold and things seemed to lurk in the darkness. Dudley felt like he had just stepped into his nightmares. And then he was out and lying on his back in the grass.

"Please don't ever do that again." He whispered as he looked at the sky bleeding color as the sun set.

"Get up little fat boy. We're here."

Dudley rolled over and found himself in front of a church. And not just any church it was the crumbling old one that Mrs. Thomas had a big to do over when they started to tear it down. She got her way but it was still half torn down and his mum called it an eyesore.

"Here?" He asked in dismay.

"Yes. Get up now."

Dudley sighed and got up slowly.

"Do I have to go in?" He looked at the church and whimpered. "Can't you go?"

The cat eyed the church with disdain. "No. When you convince the werewolf, take him back to Privet Dr." The cat turned to go. "Oh and tell him all the wards have been toyed with but only for tonight."

Then the cat was gone and Dudley was left alone on the grass. The sounds of cars pulling into driveways and doors slamming the next street over as people came home from work could be heard. Dudley wished the cat had thought to let him get some shoes first as the grass was wet and his socks were now soaked.

Not feeling very brave he walked across the grass to the side walkway and started for the door. He had to stop and calm himself down before he started up the stairs. It would be okay. He had spent his entire summer looking for help and now he had it. This was what he wanted right? It was time to stop being a coward. He had stood up to his parents once. He could do this.

He straightened his shoulders and marched up the stairs, only having to stop once to catch his breath, which showed how much weight he had lost over the summer. He hesitated at the door. What if the Professor didn't care anymore? What if he only cared about Harry? He had been sure he could handle getting Harry out and staying but now he wasn't so sure. He remembered the professor and how he had been so nice to him. He suddenly wanted Professor Peter to take him too. He really wanted that.

He knocked on the door with the knocker. The sound was flat and dull and didn't even echo but werewolves must have good hearing right?

The door opened.

A man with graying hair and glasses opened the door. It wasn't Professor Peter.

"Stupid cat." Dudley muttered under his breath. "Of course he'd get the wrong place."

"Pardon?" The man asked in a gentle but bewildered voice. "Mr. Dursley?"

Dudley froze.

* * *

August 30th

Evening.

A horrid smell woke Remus John Lupin. The first thing he noticed was pain. Every muscle, every joint, ached. When he opened his eyes an owl blocked his view. It hissed at him in annoyance and the sound echoed in the room like a dog whistle. Remus winced and moved a hand over his the ear that wasn't pressed into a pile of parchment. The pain was familiar, which was the only reason he could make sense of what was going on. The pain meant one thing.

The full moon was very close.

The smell was identified as coming from the bundle the owl had brought. It was a noxious oder. It smelled of rotten eggs and burnt vomit and wet dog.

Wolfsbane then.

Reluctant to move but aware he had to he woofed out a breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position. With blurred vision he looked around before finally stopping to gaze at the owl. It hooted at him in disgust and Remus whimpered at the sound.

Damn owls were always so cruel. Was is any wonder the wolf found them much more appetizing as snacks? With slow movements he patted his vest pocket and his fingers found a few knuts and a walnut. Unsure how the walnut got there he offered it to the owl and moved to place the knuts inside a small bag attached to the owl's leg. He missed once or twice before the coins finally went in. The owl hooted disapprovingly at him before it shook it wings and took off.

A single feather was let loose and drifted down to rest where Remus's head had rested just minutes before. Remus stared at it wondering how he came to be sitting up here instead of lying down there with a feather usurping his place. What had woken him again? He blinked in confusion and sniffed the air. Ahh yes. An owl. And rotten eggs. Had he recently eaten eggs then? Owl eggs?

He frowned and slowly brought up a hand to his face. His glasses weren't there. Ahh. That was why everything was blurry. Carefully he moved a hand to the table and patted it. His fingers brushed parchment, muggle paper, notes, pens, and knocked over an inkwell before finally feeling the familiar metal frame. His fingers brushed the glass and he hissed at the sharp pain.

Carefully he picked them up and brought them to his face. One eye came into focus while the other didn't. Unable to figure out why he forgot about that and leaned back in his chair. Where was he again? Why was he here? And were was the wolf. After these past few years he was used to hearing his mindmate whispering beneath his thoughts.

Oh wait. He was there. Sleeping. Slightly comforted Remus turned his attention to focusing on memory. Why was everything so blurry in his thoughts? Pathetic really. He had always been prized for his easy ability to recall information. James had often said he wasn't really smart. Even a dog could remember things if you repeated it often enough. Remus would ignore him and continue to mutter facts to himself while Sirius got into a tussle with James over the dog slur and Peter shook his head and laughed.

Thinking of Peter, James, and especially Sirius abruptly hurt and shocked Remus into remembering he was dead. That lead to thinking about how he had died. Sirius killed him. And James was dead. And Harry. Oh poor Harry. He was not dead but probably wanted to. Oh and Dudley. At least Dudley wasn't suffering.

Remus remembered the last year. Harry was prominent in his mind but then Dudley took over. Sometimes, he mixed up something Dudley said with something Harry said and it all got muddled up in his mind. Had Dudley said 'I hate you' with such disgust? Had Harry been the one to laugh at the silly facts that Remus had spent hours memorizing as a child? Who did he love? Harry or Dudley? Or were Harry and Dudley both the same and he, in his madness, had separated them into two different pups?

Remus also had a dream. When he dreamed it he didn't know but he recalled the dream now. He had been running and chasing children. A child. A girl with blond pigtails and a red jacket. She had sat in the front row and always smiled at him. He had found her house and lured her out. And then he had eaten her.

Remus frowned and rubbed his forehead. That wasn't right. Perhaps the wolf had dreamed it then. Why was his memory so mistaken? Perhaps he needed food. When had he last eaten? Looking around he noticed the room he was in for the first time. It was a church. He remembered that. This was the main room he had transfigured into his work room.

Tables were everywhere. Some were actual tables, wooden and broken, transfigured stone ones for potions, and even a glass one he had pulled from some muggle's back yard. A few were books piled up like legs with boards across them. Cauldrons and potions and ingredients were everywhere. Parchment lay scatted, on table tops, halfway out of drawers, and on the floor. Books were piled high, some near to falling off a table's edge, many stacked in chairs, on benches, and one half in a spilled potion.

There was no food to be had. Remus honestly couldn't recall when he had last eaten. Yesterday he had slept. No yesterday he had done research. Or had he brewed a potion? Ahh yes a potion. He had brewed a potion and it had exploded. Suddenly Remus was on his feet.

He had found a way to free himself!

Oh yes he had. Harry. Harry eating. Harry laughing. Harry going away with him. Harry living with him. Hogwarts. He could think about it all. And there was no pain. Nothing. Not even a hint of it. He laughed. _He had done it. _Finally.

The summer was still blurry. Remus had spent it in a flurry of research but now everything was fine. It all had paid off. He knew, somehow in his gut he knew, that he could go to Harry and touch Harry and hug _Harry_ and no one would be the wiser. He could rescue Harry now. He could do it.

It felt bloody brilliant.

A knock on the door had him smiling. Perhaps that was Harry. Harry had left the Dursleys and come to find him. He was across the room in an instant, unheeding the parchments full of scribbles that were disturbed by his swiftness and sent flying into the air to drift slowly to the floor behind him.

He opened the door and abruptly his mind cleared. Not Harry. Dudley.

"Pardon?" He asked as Dudley looked at him oddly and he didn't know why. "Mr. Dursley?"

Dudley Dursley stood in the door frame on the front stoop of the abandoned church that Remus had holed up in. He looked at Remus in dismay and Remus was puzzled. Oh yes. Remus was Remus and not John James Peter. Remus frowned at the name. Why had he come up with such an obvious name?

The boy froze, and stared at him for a moment. Finally he stepped closer, blue eyes locked with Remus's. Remus was confused for a moment before it clicked. The boy was looking at his eyes. His eyes that were amber, a werewolf's eyes, that couldn't be hidden with spells or muggle things or polyjuice.

Remus sighed. How would he explain this? "Mr. Dursley I know you may not recognize me but I am-"

"Professor Peter." The boy interrupted him looking uncertain and nervous but his tension eased a bit when Remus nodded

"Yes.." He said it a bit awkwardly. " There is a potion that can change what you look like into something else. . . " He trailed off. The way the boy looked at him made him think of McGonagall when she would catch the Marauders pulling a prank and Remus was pushed forward for an explanation. She always looked like she didn't believe a word he said and rightly so. Remus sighed again. "I am sorry you had to find out this way."

Dudley bit his lip and studied Remus a bit closer. Remus forced himself, after years of practice, to not fidget when the boy took in his patched clothes and untrimmed hair and holy shoes.

"What happened to your glasses?"

"What?" Remus brought up a hand to his glasses in surprise and again cut his finger on the glass. Sticking his finger in his mouth he sucked the blood away and winced at the pain. How had he forgotten about that? With a practiced movement from a once champion dueler Remus pulled out his wand tapped his glasses and returned them to new condition, well as new as they had been when he got them.

When he looked up he found Dudley staring with his mouth open. He smiled softly. "A potion exploded. Nothing to worry about."

The sound of a car door slamming broke into Dudley's awe.

"Professor Peter!" He suddenly half shouted. "You must save Harry!"

Remus was suddenly very intent. "Why? What has happened?" He realized he had growled the question when Dudley's eyes widened. Luckily the boy wasn't aware of what that meant.

"My parents, my dad." Dudley swallowed and looked down. "I- You were right. They-" He swallowed again and squared his shoulders and lifted his chin meeting Remus' eyes. "They abuse Harry. He doesn't realize it but he needed to get out of there."

Good boy. "What do you think I can do?" Even if the spell was off Remus and the wolf, there was still the blood wards and the ministry wards and the detection of dark creature wards.

"Come home with me. Take him away" Dudley said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Dudley-" Remus couldn't think of what to say so he didn't say anything. Moments ticked by and tuned into minutes.

The boy scowled at him. "No. You tried to get me to believe you about the abuse all last year. Now I do and you won't take care of it?" The boy looked at him in disgust. " You have m-magic. Your a werewolf, unless you were lying!" Remus shook his head but the boy plowed on. "You can do something!"

" Dudley." Remus said it soothingly. It wasn't so simple as that. There was Dumbledore, and muggle _and_ wizarding authorities, and not the least to mention the Dursleys themselves that Remus was afraid he'd rip apart if he went near.

The boy looked as if he had hit him and Remus winced. "I never thought you were a coward, Peter."

Remus swallowed hard. He remembered James saying the exact same thing to him and Peter when every he and Sirius wanted to pull a prank. But he had said it in a cruel, your-a-Nancy-boy, sorta way and Dudley said it as if he was . . . disappointed. Disillusioned.

But Remus was a Gryffindor. He was no coward.

"All right. You're right. We must save Harry." Seeing the boy's eyes light up was worth what he knew would be another failure. Abruptly he stepped out the door, forcing Dudley to scramble out of his way. With purpose he closed the door and started down the stairs, Dudley just a step behind him.

The only thing that would stop him this time would be the wards. "I might be able to break through the wards with a spell I learned recently. Maybe." He muttered to him self as he headed down the walk.

"Umm, sir?" Dudley ran a bit to catch up. "About the wards?"

Remus stopped and looked at Dudley in surprise. The boy flushed but went on.

"They've been, err toyed? Yes toyed with. But just for tonight." He was red with embarrassment when he finished.

Remus' mind jumped into overdrive. He had known it would all work out well. The wards had been toyed with. There would be no failure tonight. Harry would soon be free.

"Thank you, Mr. Dursley." He said it softly. Then, with a short warning, he grabbed the boy's shoulder and apparated them to Privet Dr.

* * *

August 30th

Sunset.

Dudley approved of cars. He really did. He even liked walking. No he loved walking. They really could have walked just as easily. Perhaps even more easily as he wouldn't now be face down in the dirt.

Professor Peter, err well he wasn't exactly sure that was his name but thought he'd ask later, helped him up with one strong arm. His stomach rolled a bit as he stood before he managed to get it settled. He looked around. He was on the front lawn of number 4 Privet Dr. He was home.

Professor Peter looked around, his yellow eyes overly wide. Dudley frowned. He didn't think the summer had been kind to him but he couldn't tell as the man looked completely different. The clothes were the same though, when Dudley thought about it, and had even more darned patches and a few new holes. His posture was different, like the school's old librarian, with slightly rounded shoulders from hunching over books. His glasses and the gray in his hair and the lines on his face made him look old.

He waited but the Professor just looked around in a dazed sorta way. He supposed he would have to take the lead.

"Err, Harry's not allowed out. Hasn't been all summer. So you'll have to go in and get him."

The Professor frowned and nodded but didn't move. Dudley tried again.

"Err, you know he's got magic right?"

That got his attention. Professor Peter looked at him and nodded cautiously. Dudley nodded in confirmation, like his mum did sometimes. "Err, yeah. So be careful. He might do something to you."

The Professor sighed. "He might at that. He is very powerful." Dudley snorted. He had heard that.

"So don't talk to him. Just take him away and talk later. It's not like he can talk back anyhow."

Professor Peter's head snapped from looking at his mum's petunias to look Dudley in the eye. "What?" He fairly growled.

Dudley blinked. Oh. He hadn't told him. "Err. At the beginning of the summer. Actually when I got home the day we, err, fought." Dudley swallowed. He hadn't realized this would be so hard. "I found Harry cutting himself. Punishing himself."

"What!" The word was like a slap and Dudley winced. Professor Peter didn't notice because he suddenly had a hold of Dudley's shoulders almost tight enough to hurt.

"Err. Yeah. That's how the got around the spell the barmy old man cast. Then they got around it for real, cause I sorta told them I knew, and . . ." Would he hate Dudley for his part in it? "My dad cut Harry's throat. He-he can't talk anymore." The cat had said something but Dudley couldn't remember. "Err, I don't think."

And there was cold wind again. It wasn't as strong as it had been when Dudley felt it in November but it was cold. It came from the Professor and Peter's grip was suddenly so tight it hurt. His eyes seemed to glow and they turned into a color that looked like a brick of gold or a woman's fine chain. Dudley got scared. He couldn't help it he got scared and with all his strength he pulled away barely managing to escape Peter's grasp.

It was a good thing he had because the Professor suddenly doubled over, an odd whining sound escaping his mouth, and his body twisted strangely. Dudley could barely breath. What was happening? Peter's body contorted backwards and then forwards and he fell to the ground.

"I didn't take it." He suddenly whispered in horror. His eyes suddenly locked with Dudley's. They were wild and frightened and frightening. "Run." He said. "Run now."

Dudley hesitated as Peter was in pain and Dudley was slowly learning to sympathize with people in pain but a high pitched howl sounded startling him into jumping.

When he realized the sound came from the Professor he ran.

* * *

August 30th

Sunset.

Petunia Dursley's world was going to hell.

It was all the fault of that boy. That monster boy. That little witch. That _f-freak_.

One of Petunia's darkest secrets was she had once wanted to be one.

When her sister, her beautiful, talented, radiant Lily, had been accepted at that school she had been willing to follow. In fact her sister had been so _enthusiastic_ about it, that her excitement had been contagious and Petunia had wanted to go as well. She had _wanted_ to be a witch.

She wrote the Headmaster of that school. Dumbledoor or some such oddness. She had begged to be allowed to attend. She had wanted to go so badly. She had wanted to be with her sister. But he had said no. His letter had arrived and beneath the fancy words and her mother's sympathetic look and Petunia had first known rejection. It was then she began hating witches.

Her parents didn't attend church but her grandmother did. Occasionally, when she went to visit her over a holiday, and her sister stayed at that school with her freakish friends her grandmother would taker her to church. It was there she found a reason to hate witches.

She could remember the way Father Wright looked. His face had been red with passion as he shouted out to the congregation, his woolly white hair flying about as it came unbound with the fury of his speech. She remembered her grandmother seated them in the back, "To avoid accidental spittle, dear." The benches had been wooden and everyone had sat in them with an attentive but wary air. The church had been a bit cold, and she had been bored until she actually began listening.

"ALL supernatural power comes, ultimately, from either God or Satan." His eyes seemed to lock with people as he talked and he would shout the first word of every sentence.

"GOD gives power to those who believe the truth. SATAN gives power to those who believe a lie. WITCHCRAFT bolsters up the lie with: mystery, pseudo-science, ancient knowledge. The more ABSURD the lie the better."

Petunia knew well the sin of lying as she had recently been caught in one when her mother had asked if Lily had owled and she had lied and said she didn't. Owl indeed. Lily hadn't found an owl bearing a letter, just the letter left on the front stoop, which she had thrown away.

But it was like coming home listening to Father Wright. If you had a home that didn't harbor a freak in the next bedroom. Witchcraft was merely lying. She had been rather gleeful at that. It meant she didn't have to believe a word her sister said as she was a witch and so she must be lying.

"If we mix certain INGREDIENTS in a drink . . . If we eat a special HERB . . . If we arrange CANDLES in a certain configuration . . . If we stare into a CRYSTAL ball . . If we turn over TAROT cards . . . If we "READ" the stars . . . If we speak certain PHRASES, or MANTRA . . . If we have SECRET knowledge . . . If we draw certain SYMBOLS . . . THEN spiritual forces will come into play."

Petunia couldn't help but jump whenever he shouted but it made her pay attention, not that she had much trouble. Here she was justified in everything she thought. Here she had an _adult_ telling others that Witchcraft was wrong. She had been right. She was right. She knew it now.

"JAMES 3:15 says Such "WISDOM" does not come down from heaven but is EARTHLY, UNSPIRITUAL, and of the DEVIL. WITCHCRAFT can be defined as a DESIRE to be a spiritual free agent without SUBMISSION to God or regard for His word."

He said the word desire as if it were a horrible thing to do and submission as if you ought to do it.

"Second Chronicles 33:6 says He practiced SORCERY, DIVINATION and WITCHCRAFT, and consulted MEDIUMS and SPIRITISTS. He did much EVIL in the eyes of the Lord, provoking him to anger." Father Wright had to pause and breath before he could continue. Petunia was horrified that all that was evil. She was also thrilled.

"Jeremiah 27, "So do not listen to your PROPHETS, your DIVINERS, your INTERPRETERS of dreams, your MEDIUMS or your SORCERERS . . . Do not let the prophets and diviners among you DECIEVE you."

He paused a long while before continuing. Many people grew restless but stopped figeting the moment he looked their way. He held his silence and finally is eyes met hers.

"DO NOT practice DIVINATION OR SORCERY!"

And it was then she had been glad she wasn't accepted at that school. It was a bad place to be. A horrible evil place full of liars. God would have been so angry. It was such a shame Lily was a witch.

She hadn't gone to church much after that, nor really cared about anything else said there but that day stuck in her head. She had been right. That is what held her proud though all the letters from her sister and all the books and spells and magic things and that horrid boy that lived down the street and made her see spiders and snakes whenever he was around.

She often told Lily that God hated her. Lily cried the first time but later seemed to stop caring. Petunia took that as a sign that she was right. If her sister didn't love God anymore she must be evil. The years passed and she came to believe it more and more.

But she realized she was wrong when her sister wound up dead and that boy appeared on their doorstep. She then realized her sister had been brainwashed the entire time. She had been stolen by the devil and he had raped her and that boy had been born. That evil freak of a creature. She had mourned that she hadn't been able to help her sister.

She supposed she could have blamed it all on Potter. He was the one who stole her sister's heart and swept her away. She did for the longest time, jealousy twisting her stomach like a hand in her gut, but when the boy appeared she realized everything. Harry Potter was responsible for everything.

She hadn't liked it when it first appeared, she had in fact dropped it off at the hospital right off but it came back. She had reluctantly given it a bed in Dudley's second bedroom and taken care of the freak. The fact that she couldn't look into its eyes meant nothing. She simply didn't feed it. She put food in front of it. If it got hungry it would eat. Other than reluctance to love it she did nothing out of the ordinary. It couldn't help its parentage after all.

The first time she realized the boy was evil was when he killed the cat.

It wasn't her cat. It had belonged to Mrs. Figg and had somehow gotten out and crept over to her house to play in the back yard. She had been hanging laundry and the boys had been on the grass playing and eating a snack. It had toyed with Dudley's blanket and made that boy laugh when its whiskers swept over bare skin. She had smiled for the first time at the sight of the boy. It had been the last time.

She had left them for a moment. The phone had rang and she had been expecting a call from Vernon saying if he'd be late or not. She had only left them for a moment.

When she returned everything was well. Dudley was happily eating his snack and the boy sleeping with his head pillowed on the cat's belly. She had marveled that the creature could still breath with such weight but the rise and fall of its stomach testified that it could. She had started to hang up one of Vernon's work shirts when out of the corner of her eye the boy had suddenly looked green. She had moved to check on him, certain the daft child had eaten grass or something, when the green exploded. It had been light, hot and cold and green. It had engulfed the boy in flames of green fire. Witches fire. Evil green fire. His back had arched and out of his mouth an unholy sound that sent her Dudley into hysterics and her along with him.

When the light faded. The boy lay near to not breathing and his scar bled. The cat lay dead.

Vernon had take the boy away. Petunia had been distraught. That evil boy had nearly hurt her son. She had wanted him gone. She didn't care where. Vernon had returned without him and she didn't ask anything.

But the next morning she had been nervous. The neighbors had known about the Dursley's generosity in taking in their orphan nephew. They would notice his absence. And the police. What if they found out? They would never believe tales of witchcraft and freakishness.

She had attacked the kitchen to settle her nerves. The entire room glowed before she even got to the floor. When she opened the broom cupboard she had screamed loud enough to wake Dudley from his nap. There had been the boy, fast asleep, dried blood on his forehead. She had slammed the door shut and frantically looked for a lock. After securing the door she had called Vernon.

After that similar events kept her from growing too complacent. The boy might act harmless and submissive but he was not. He was evil and every day she grew more and more certain of it. She hadn't planned on beating the boy but it came about whenever she was angry if she hurt him she would feel calmer. Vernon followed her lead and soon was the main instigator of the . . . punishments.

But now the boy had done it. He had turned her own son against her. Her son, her precious Dudley couldn't even look at her, wouldn't talk to her. She barely saw him and when she did it made her want to cry. He looked so small; he had lost weight. It made her want to scoop him up and make sure nothing ever touched him. But she couldn't because he hated her.

He thought she was a child abuser.

She wasn't though. She was right. She was simply doing the only thing she could. She never wanted that boy. She tried to get rid of the freak. She laughed at the thought that he could ever be normal. That she, or anyone really, could ever love him. No one could because he was an evil creature of the devil and hell.

And now her world was hell.

And she couldn't even kill him. She had tried. Vernon had tried. He still lived, even now he sat up there taking up Dudley's second bedroom and eating Dudley's food. She grew more and more bitter as the summer passed. If nothing happened soon she would crack. Soon she would try and get rid of him for good. Perhaps she would succeed. Then everything would be right again.

The sound of Dudley's scream was the beginning of the end.

* * *

August 30th

Moonrise.

Pain.

The Wolf always knew pain. It was constant. It was his life. He knew nothing else.

When he first came into existence there had been pain. It had been the pain of the one to whose life he clung to. It had been a child's pain.

But then the Wolf and found the child had sharp teeth and he had known more pain. Pain when he fought to stay, pain when he took his new host's upon himself, pain when the moon first came and his own magic fought and won the right to take the body for the night.

Pain made him brainsick. It scrambled his thoughts and lost them. The Wolf often felt disoriented and off balance. His new host didn't want him and those sharp teeth let him know it. They fought and hurt him and there was always pain.

But then the Wolf had known more pain then ever before, it had come like suddenly like a stag out of the brush from up wind, and suddenly he could hear his host's thoughts. His host became his mindmate and he had known more about this intimate member of his pack.

He hadn't understood much. He was too tired and to much ever in pain for that but he was able to comfort his mindmate. He had known quickly his host knew not that he hurt him. It was fair. His very presence hurt his host too.

The wolf did know about pack. He knew of the one that loved them, the one that smelled like laughter and sugar and sleepy soft breath and was submissive and was titled mate. He knew of others. They smelled like prey but were not prey. Then the human ones. The human pups. First the one that was more . . . much more than he seemed. The one that was very close to what the Wolf was. Then the other one. The one that had no magic but could see it. He never saw the wolf but he was young and might one day.

These members of pack staying in his mind, and his host's mind, even through the death of most of them. The Wolf was confused as to when each became pack and when they left but it seemed to the Wolf that they were always gone. That hurt his mind mate and so it became the Wolf's goal to get them back.

The Wolf supported his mindmate as much as possible but it was hard to keep his thoughts steady, it was hard to think through the pain, it was hard to stay sane. Madness was so constant a companion it almost seemed pack.

Now the moon rose again and there was pain.

It was familiar pain and it meant freedom. Temporary freedom but freedom nonetheless. It was freedom from pain, from the darkness his host's teeth kept him in, from the idea of death. It wasn't freedom from the madness but then there was freedom _in_ madness so it was alright.

But the pain was gone, for only this blessed night each month, and the sent of pain was on the softly blown wind. It was his pack, the one that hurt his host with his pain. He was in pain; he was letting loose his teeth.

It was obvious to the Wolf that he must help. His host was sleeping now, perhaps for the first time in years since the poison had started coming, and he was in no position to help. The Wolf must help their packmate as he had no one else.

He raised his head and sniffed the air. There was the moon, and the coming night, and wet. Rain was coming. And pain. And fear.

Fear was intoxicating to the Wolf. It made the madness more mad.

The smell of fear was stronger than the smell of pain and the smell of teeth. The Wolf smelled fear and he began to salivate. Pain. This time he would inflict the pain.

With a joyous cry the Wolf was after the source and then through the door into the dwelling where more pain filled his nose. Old pain. Pain of young members of pack. He was after the fleeing source of fear. It screamed and tried to lose him and then it was with in reach.

The Wolf sunk his teeth into flesh with ease. The wriggling thing screamed and pain filled his nose. The madness was quiet for a moment and the Wolf released the human with sudden shame. His pack. The human pup with no magic. He had bitten him. Even the Wolf knew what it meant. His human pup was no longer human.

He also had scrambled away and smelled of fear and pain and urine.

The scream of another pulled his attention away. It was the female human. The one that hurt his other human pup. The little pup. She screamed and had risen to her feet from where she sat. The Wolf looked at her and saw evil. Enemy. Prey.

He moved to attack but was distracted by larger prey. It lumbered to its feet and it's face got darker then very pale. Suddenly it was beneath his teeth and squealing in pain. Bone and blood and fat filled his mouth and it took a few shakes to still it. Suddenly it was dead.

But it wasn't enough. The larger human. It was so much bigger than the little magical pup. It could hurt the pup that much easier. The Wolf had to be sure it was dead. Rage filled his thought until that was all there was. He tore and ripped and pulled and howled. He was covered in blood before he was through.

Frantic sobbing met found his ears. The female human held the his new wolf pup to her and screamed and screamed and screamed. He stalked her slowly and her fear rose. Get! He snarled. My pup! GET AWAY! Rage made him unaware she couldn't understand him. He chased her and she ran but she didn't get far before loosing her footing and collapsing to the floor.

He was on her and she died quickly as he ripped out her throat. Rage had him tearing her to pieces. Kill. Rip. Tear. Blood.

When he was through the sound of harsh breathing could be heard. He turned and found the little human pup crouched not a foot away. He seemed to be glowing.

Rage made him snarl. This one didn't like his host. This one hurt his host. Images he had seen in his host's mind flashed briefly by. The one where this pup said words that hurt them both lingered.

Madness made him attack. He lunged but fell as teeth bit him. He had forgot the little pup had teeth. He was thrown back by powerful teeth and there was pain before there was darkness.

* * *

August 30th

Sunset.

Why had he decided to go to Crescent? More important why had he decided to use his magic? It hadn't been a normal thing for him to do. In fact, due to his promise to Petunia, it had been strictly out of character. And now he was paying the price.

Harry stared at his hands. They were very small hand, a child's hands, riddled with scars and slightly dirty although how they had gotten that way was beyond him as he'd been in Dudley's second bedroom all summer and most of it in bed. They were normal hands, he thought. Proportioned nicely and strong enough to do work when it needed done.

Currently they were glowing.

Green and blue and gold swirled around his hands like Osset're's magic did around him. Except he was no mage and his magic was supposed to say within his body unless he said otherwise. He had not said otherwise and his magic was running rampant. It disobeyed his repeated orders to settle back into the cup. It laughed when he tried to capture it.

Mutiny. Utter mutiny.

His emotions weren't obeying him either. He was desperate to calm himself down. He could barely breath thorough the emotions and this time they weren't someone else's emotions he could ignore but his.

Rage was most prominent. It was so hot he felt sick with it. The fear was nearly as strong. They had found out; Osset're and Hylaarr had found out. What would he do? What would they do? What would the Dursleys do? Everything was about to fall apart. And then there was the pain. He _hurt_. Betrayal was so unexpected until it happened. They had betrayed him. They didn't love him. If they did they would believe him. They wouldn't have _plotted_ to break him. And then there was yearning. It wasn't strong, just present. It was enough to let him know it was there. Yearning for Crescent, missing it. Yearning for Osset're and Hylaarr. Yearning for truth. A part of him _wanted_ to believe what they had said. Wanted to believe what they believed.

That he was being abused. That he didn't deserve it. That he might belong with them because he was part vampire.

Harry struggled to control his emotions. He struggled to push them down, push them deep, drown them with other things. They pushed right back. Rage boiled down to anger. _How dare they!_ How dare they tell him these things! They had to know he might believe them. They had to know he would believe them. They had never lied to him. How dare they start _now_!

Anger. He was angry at the Dursleys. Why were they always so obvious? Why was it always up to Harry to hide the a-punishments? Why didn't _they_ clean up their own messes? The whisper laughed at him. Because they have you. It laughed again. And you do it.

When he pushed away the anger, fear reared its head. What would happen when they found out someone else knew? What would the punishment be? What would happen if they, the Dursleys, truly washed their hand of him? There would be no punishments. There would be nothing to hold him in check. There would be nothing to cancel out the temptation to act normal.

What would Osset're and Hylaarr do to them? Harry felt true fear for the Dursleys. Hylaarr and Osset're would kill them. The Dursleys didn't deserve what two angry vampires could dish out. It was him. It was Harry that caused it all. Harry knew what the Dursleys would suffer in the face of Hylaarr's rage. He had witnessed so much at Crescent it was easy to imag-

Suddenly Harry laughed. It was a strange laugh. He had broken Se'ir's spell and he could speak again but his voice hadn't been used all summer and his laugh was . . . awkward. It sounded broken and hiccuping and small but it echoed of the wall's of Dudley's second bedroom like someone had set loose a rubber ball.

_Hylaarr and Osset're weren't real_. Crescent wasn't real. How had he possibly forgotten?

Relief that was partly regret hit him and washed away all the other emotions. Nothing was wrong. In fact everything was fine. There was no such thing as Crescent and her Lord and his Consort. No such thing as vampires and Nin and children that were human but were part vampire and were supposed to have magic.

Everything would be fine. Nothing had changed.

Suddenly the cat appeared. Se'ir found his eyes immediately and for once Harry could sense his emotions. He was worried and it was contagious when he mind sent to Harry.

"**Attack comes. The Werewolf craves the Fat One's death and the death of the Horse Woman. The Werewolf will kill others too in his madness.** "

Harry stared at Se'ir. What?

Se'ir hissed at him. "**The Werewolf will hurt the small fat boy. Go!**"

Harry was on his feet before he could register why. After so long in bed he swayed and had to steady himself against a bookshelf. Taking a deep breath he asked his magic to give him strength. Willing and eager to do anything after such a long while of inactivity it seeped into him with all haste and healed every hurt he thought he might have. With breath to calm himself he started for the door.

His magic unlocked and opened the door and sped ahead of him as he raced down the stairs. The sound of the tellie blaring from the sitting room had him heading that way. He entered the room at a run and stopped short in the doorway. Petunia and Vernon sat peacefully in their chairs watching what looked to be a documentary. There wasn't a werewolf or any sign of one.

They both looked up when he came in and Petunia let out a stifled scream. Vernon sat frozen in his chair and Harry could nearly smell their fear. He blinked and looked down at him. Oh. His magic was still free. In fact it was out of control and dancing around him in wild abandon resembling fire.

Harry shook his head, trying to shake off the magic, and reached out a hand to Petunia. She screamed, a high pitched thing, and cringed away from him.

"Get away." She shrieked. "Freak! Murderer. Monster!" She looked around, her eye wild and crazy, before they lit on Vernon. "Help! Vernon get him."

But Vernon was so frozen he looked molded to his chair. He was white with terror and stared at Harry's hands as if he saw a bloody knife there instead of magic. Their fear was so great Harry couldn't escape it. It filled the room and his magic laughed in response to it and grew, spreading out around him like giant wings of green and blue and gold.

Pathetic. The whisper said in disgust.

Harry simply shook his head in dismay. How could it have come to this? They were afraid of him. Petrified. They were utterly hysterical and it was because of him. Because he was a freak.

The sound of the door opening and Dudley's scream had Harry turning his magic flaring in anticipation of an attack. He heard Petunia whimper but ignored her. He would have to use his magic in order to defend them. He could deal with the aftermath later.

Dudley was in the room only a moment before the wolf attacked. The snarling, dark thing sunk it's teeth into Dudley's leg and he screamed again this time with pain. But before Harry could direct his magic to attack the werewolf had let go allowing Dudley to crawl away dragging his leg behind him. Puzzled at the odd behavior but unwilling to pause Harry grabbed his magic in his 'hands' and directed it to the wolf.

His magic crowed at his turnabout and eagerly poured into his 'hands' ready to attack when the wolf caught Petunia out of the corner of it's eye. She had shaken off her paralysis, screamed and risen to her feet. The wolf was after her in moments and Harry imaged his magic as fire and sent it to the wolf.

But his magic balked. It had noticed what he had, the wolf was after Petunia, and it didn't want to prevent it. It remembered she had been the reason Harry had stopped using it and it was angry. It nearly cheered the wolf on and despite how Harry tried it wouldn't respond to him. Perhaps if he had been in control, perhaps if he had been older, perhaps if a part of him secretly wanted her to suffer this way he could have made it obey him but it didn't and the wolf stalked her as she turned to flee.

Vernon suddenly hefted himself to his feet, his face warring between red and white. "Boy!!" he shouted but succeeded only in drawing the wolf's attention to himself. He paled and Harry tried again but the wolf was on Vernon directly. Bloody teeth sank into pink flesh; blood spilled when flesh tore; and the echo of bones cracking could be heard in tandem with the steady growling undertone of the wolf. And then he was dead, and the wolf was pulling pieces apart.

Harry turned his head away and Petunia whimpered beneath her breath even as she scrambled to where Dudley had curled up in a corner with his head buried in his arms. She cradled Dudley in her arms and sobbed. Harry couldn't pull his eyes away. She was so protective of Dudley; obviously a mother. She loved him and she was trying to protect him even though their death was inevitable. Harry was frozen his own guilt and the Dursley's fear and the Wolf's mad rage held him back as much as his uncooperative magic did.

Then the wolf was finished and turned to Petunia who screamed and screamed and screamed before she fled, leaving Dudley and running for the nearest door. She tripped in her haste and the wolf was on her, tearing her throat out before she could scream again. It proceeded to tear her to pieces too and it rage tasted like blood in Harry's throat.

Harry did nothing. There was nothing to do and he was in shock. His mind was blank and he couldn't do anything but watch.

Finally the werewolf stopped and turned to look at Harry. He was so close his eyes were visible and he snarled at Harry in demented anger. His eyes were like honey and the seemed to swallow Harry whole.

Harry was suddenly in his mind. A million different thoughts sped by. A man with graying hair and glasses and a soft smile. Then Professor Peter, with Harry when Harry said 'I hate you", with Dudley,"Yes, Dudley. Your parents abuse Harry, and they abuse you," brewing liquids over huge black bowls, scribbling frantically, reading for hours, racing to follow Dudley, anxious to rescue Harry, seeing the moon, and then shaking and twisting with Pain.

With a gasp Harry jerked his mind free and then the wolf was lunging at him and his magic was hissing as it snapped at the wolf throwing him back into the wall where he slid down and was still.

All was quiet but for the tellie. Harry could barely breath and Dudley's sobbing was quiet. He was unable to move for a long while. Finally he blinked and, careful not to look at Petunia's remains, he moved around her body and found Dudley, who still lay shaking in the corner. Poor Dudley. She had left him. Just left him and ran. Harry hoped Dudley didn't know it. He lay a hand on Dudley's shoulders and, without prompting, his magic seeped into Dudley. Dudley glowed softly grass green and gold before his sobbing faded into sleep.

And then all was truly quiet even Harry's mind as he couldn't form a thought in it to save his life. He merely sat and listened to the dry lecture that drifted from the undisturbed tellie. A dry voice drolled on in monotone.

"An Except from _Lives of the Irish Saints_ by John O'Hanlon

Lochaber was anciently an extensive lordship, reaching on the south to Loch-Leven. It is still a large district, in the county of Inverness, and on the shore of Argyleshire. The Scottish poet Allan Ramsey has composed a beautiful song "Lochaber nor more," in reference to this place, commencing with these lines:-

"Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell to my Jean,

Where heartsome with thee I've mony day been '

For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,

We'll may be return to Lochaber no more."

Lochaber was once known as Abria according to this text though there aren't many sources to support that. It remains to this day a wonderful tourist place as it is located close to Ben Nevis, one of the highest mountains in the British Isles. . ."

Harry sucked in a breath. Abria. Osset're had said they were in Abria. Harry had assumed . . . actually he didn't know what he assumed. That it wasn't real? He looked blankly at the blood that dripped down upholstery of Vernon's chair. If Abria, was Lochaber . . . If Lochaber was once known as Abria.

Harry shook his head.

Lochaber was in Scotland. Lochaber had once been known as Abria so Abria existed. If Abria existed Crescent existed and Hylaarr and Osset're existed. His mind went blank after that. It couldn't be. They couldn't exist. If they did then . . .

Harry was unable to wrap his mind around that line of thought pushed it away and looked over at the werewolf. It lay on the carpet, blood soaking into it's fur. It wasn't just any wolf. Harry had gone inside his head. He knew this wolf. This werewolf. It was Professor John James Peter. Harry stared at the dark fur for a while. He had told Dudley Harry was abused. He had told Dudley he was abused. How dare he! How dare he meddle in things that ought not be meddled in. Dudley wasn't abused. He-he wasn't. He was . . .

Never corrected. Let to run wild and terrorize the neighborhood with out reprimand. Allowed to over eat. Dudley had only shown any sign of empathizing with others once he had seen Harry Punishing himself.

And Harry wasn't abused. They had been wrong. They had lied or more likely the believed it. They just didn't understand. Even if they were real. How dare they. How dare they be real!

Harry didn't give one whit about Professor John James Peter. About what he thought or what he did or what he suffered. And he must have suffered. Look at what was left of the Durlseys. Harry had made a mistake. He had thought there might be more to him and hadn't pursed it. He had ample opportunity. The Professor had been dying to get to know him. He had been eager to tell him anything. If Harry had just given him the time of day then the Dursleys . . .

And Dudley. Dudley was alive, healed, but Harry knew what would happen. Dudley would be a werewolf. Dudley had been bitten and now he would be a werewolf. How would he get by? He had no magic. Harry touched Dudley's shoulder and bit his lip. Was it possible? Could he give some of his magic to Dudley? His magic stirred restlessly at the thought. Harry ignored it. Harry leaned closer and closed his eyes. He started to reach inside himself . . .

"**What are you doing?" **The mindspeech sounded in his head very loudly and Harry jerked back in shock, heart pounding, magic swirling around his hands in reaction. Se'ir sat carefully between pools of blood soaked carpet and frowned at Harry. "**The little fat one has no need of your magic. He now has the magic of the moon. Pack magic. Admittedly his sire leaves much to be desired as Pack but at least he will one day be able to . . .**"

Harry let his magic loose and Se'ir melted away just a hair's breath before it hit. He faded back into solidity with his ears flat against his head and his teeth bared. Harry hissed back. "**_How dare you._ You gave me nothing! You should have helped. You should. . .**"

"**What? Heal them?"** The little cat sneered at Harry. "**I wouldn't even if I could. They are horrible mortals and I am shocked you haven't done this yourself yet.**"

Harry stared at him in dismay. Even Se'ir didn't understand.

"**Tell me, lost childe, what should I understand? That you must be punished? That you aren't abused? Punishments and abuse **_**can**_** be two separate things." **His duel eyes glittered with anger**. "The vampire lords have said it. The Werewolf has said it. The small fat one has said it. **_**You have said it. **_**I say it now. You are abused. You, a lost little mortal immortal, are not what you think you are."**

Abruptly the cat stood and started to walk away.** "Mind speak me when you are ready to believe the truth."**

Harry stared at the spot where he had been and hissed in rage. And what would he do if he were wrong! If he had been wrong this entire time. If they had been abusing him and he had let them. Encouraged them. What if Hylaarr and Osset're were right? What if Se'ir was right?

Could he possibly not be human? Could he possibly be vampire somewhere and not know it? His magic swirled around him sadly.

If you aren't one you could be. The whisper seemed to come from outside him this time. Harry didn't look for it. In fact, this time he listened. He could be a vampire, more he could _become_ one. Hylaarr and Osset're had offered.

And they were real. They were _real_. The lived not far from here. In Scotland no less. How could he possibly have thought they weren't. Oh. Would they be angry? They had tried so hard to get him to understand. He wasn't sure he did but he thought he might one day. Would they want him still?

Why don't you ask? The whisper laughed at him.

Harry laughed with it. He thought he might. He really thought he might. It was such a shock to Harry. He was leaving the Dursleys. He was leaving them for good.

* * *

**So does anyone know what creature Harry is? I've given you enough hints. Let me know if you do cause next chapter your going to find out.**

**Also my Betas bailed. Well, actually he's gone to Uni last I heard and hasn't read my last few chapters as far as I know. I would be grateful for anyone who wants to temp or co'beta with him as my last few chapters have sadly been lacking in any polishing whatsoever.**

**And Painless_J? Anyone have her email? Or can anyone recommend my fic to her? Its one of my dreams to have her rec my fic or at least review it. You know those dreams I keep close to my heart, right along with working for Disney, seeing Harry and Snape declare undying love for each other in DH, and making my fortune in Vegas. I'm bearing my soul here. Can't anyone help?**

**Love always.**

**Fitful.**


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